


Stupefied

by bttrmllw



Category: Naruto
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Community: kakasaku, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, Light Angst, Past Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke, Post Naruto, Romance, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:34:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 38,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24686980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bttrmllw/pseuds/bttrmllw
Summary: AU. It had been the better part of four years since he'd seen her, so when he returned to Konoha he saw a young woman several inches taller, snarkier, and wiser than the Sakura he remembered. Also—breasts. Wow. Kakashi-centric.
Relationships: Haruno Sakura & Hatake Kakashi, Haruno Sakura/Hatake Kakashi
Comments: 129
Kudos: 314





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I adore this pairing. This is a drabble-series devoted to KakaSaku, hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing!

**.**

**.**

* * *

**Adjustment**

—

The familiar gates of Konoha greeted him and the Copy-Nin reflected at the utter relief that flooded through him every time he managed to barely return home. Four long years kept him away from his sanctuary, though the aforementioned relief lingered only until grief and guilt subdued it. Nevertheless, he was on an extended assignment that kept him away and he was more than happy to finally return.

One step, two steps, and then he collapsed at the threshold. Distant footsteps was all he heard before darkness esconsed his already bleary vision.

.

.

“You idiot.”

He knew that voice. It was hardened by life, riddled with exasperation for the foolish and a wisdom that only comes with living for decades.

“I know you're awake, brat,” the voice snarled. Even so, Kakashi knew affection when it presented itself. “Somehow you made it back with sheer dumb luck,” the woman went on, quite aware that the silver-haired man was conscious. A jab at his arm followed her words. “Goddammit, Hatake, acknowledge your Hokage!”

The Copy-Nin would have chuckled if the motion didn't send a fresh stab of pain up his side. His eyes opened feebly and blinked at the bright hospital lights. The Sharingan was expertly bandaged, but the pulsing pain in his socket spoke volumes of its detriorating state. A clearing throat drew his attention to the very petulant blonde that stood at his bed-side, hands at the swell of her hips. He smiled, though it was hidden beneath his mask.

“You were supposed to return three years ago—idiot!” Tsunade admonished, looking none too pleased. “You're _late_.”

At that, he did chuckle, though it turned quickly into a groan. “I...got lost on the road of life,” he supplied with a careless grin.

Tsunade chose to ignore it. “Now you're too broken and pathetic to become the Rokudaime. I was really looking forward to retiring, you know.”

“Isn't Naruto still a viable option?” Kakashi supplied, allowing his good eye to drift closed. The hum of the light fixture above him was both soothing and unnerving at the same time. Was that apples he smelled?

The Godaime snorted, crossing her terrifyingly strong arms over her chest. “Yeah, when he's older and wiser—maybe when he's closer to forty. Like you.”

Kakashi peered at her through his good eye. “I'm a very young and wily mid thirty-year-old.”

Tsunade scoffed. “You're lucky you're alive. Saving you nearly cost me my best apprentice.” He must have appeared alarmed, because the woman sighed. “Relax. She's fine. Which is more than I can say for you—what the hell do you think you're doing?” She demanded as the patient gingerly sat up on his cot and flicked the wires attached to his chest.

“I might lack in punctuality but not manners. I need to thank her. And then scold her for doing something so dumb,” Kakashi said simply, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed. “Where is she?”

Perhaps he was a difficult patient to deal with even in his state of unconsciousness because Tsunade just rolled her eyes and muttered something that sounded like “why bother” before leaving the silver-haired man to his own devices.

A part of him was grateful she didn't try to convince (or order) him to stay in bed, but the more rational side wished she had. What the hell was he thinking? He couldn't even inch off the bed without wincing. On top of that—he had _no_ idea where the medic might be. Was she working? Was she at home? Training? It occurred to him that he was being an idiot and that she would likely just come to him for a check up. So instead, he eased back into bed and busied himself with eating the neatly sliced apples at his side-table.

Sakura would check on him soon.

.

.

The hours passed and Kakashi awoke from a rather deep slumber, very much alone but feeling much better. He wondered if Sakura stopped by. His only clue was more sliced apples on the previously empty plate at his bed side.

.

.

Three days later he was dismissed from the hospital, mostly because he kept trying to leave on his own accord and the staff were much too busy to keep tabs on the insufferable Jounin. At this point, he had seen much of Genma, Naruto, and Kurenai, but none of the elusive medic. What the hell? It shouldn't have bothered him, and so he did his best to shrug it off. Even so, it was a bit disappointing. He didn't linger on the deflating feeling it gave him, and instead wandered down the cobblestone street towards his home.

People openly gaped at him, at which he lifted a cheerful hand and offered a friendly, “Yo.”

“What do you think you're doing?” Ah-ha!

He peered over his shoulder to see a head of pink bound towards him. “Saku—” the expression on her face told him to shut up, and he did so.

“What do you think you're doing?” she repeated. “You're supposed to be in the hospital for a week at the _least_!”

Before he could respond that he appreciates her concern but he's a grown-ass man who can take care of himself, thank-you-very-much, she continued:

“And you could have at least changed into some proper clothes before leaving, idiot.”

Kakashi blinked. Ah, yes. Hospital gown. “I thought it was quite brisk out,” he noted mildly, prompting the young medic to shake her head. He smiled then. “It's good to see you, Sakura.”

She stared at him much in the manner of a parent reprimanding a child before taking two steps to close the distance between them and fitting her arms around his torso. “It's good to see you, too.”

When they parted, the woman hastily wiped at the tears dotting the edges of her eyes.

“You are the most insufferably stubborn ninja I know,” she declared. “You almost _died_.”

He only offered a dismissive shrug. “ _You_ almost died.”

“Saving you,” she quipped, narrowing her eyes—had they always been such a bright green? There was something in her gaze he couldn't quite deem as familiar to the Sakura he knew. “Here're your pants, you can at least stop flashing all of Konoha and giving all the civilian women nosebleeds.”

Was that a compliment?

Kakashi gave her an amused look, before grabbing the proferred clothing and, with her help, tugging the sweat pants over his legs. “Hospital gowns are so mundane. You'd think a bare ass wouldn't shock people these days,” he declared.

Sakura laughed and gave the man a look that the girl he knew four years prior would never have worn. Coy? “Civilians will never be accustomed to such toned and firm ninja features,” she responed, arching a brow in amusement. “Now come on, old man. We should get you home.”

Did she just call his ass firm?

“I'm not old,” he grumbled, earning another laugh from the young woman. Sakura hooked her arm through his; the motion was so natural for her, he wondered when she felt close enough to do something like that. He imagined she was that close with Naruto, but not with her former sensei. Or was that simply something that came with growing up and saving lives?

“Whatever,” the medic responded, waving a hand.

Their walk was peaceful enough, though he was getting the sensation that Sakura was walking him home in the same manner that she would escort an elderly patient to his cot. This bothered Kakashi, but he didn't mention it—besides, it was nice having her to support his weight. They moved at a snail's pace, but Sakura didn't seem to mind, and if she did, he couldn't tell. Not from the smile on her lips (they seemed pinker than he recalled), nor the glint in her eyes (Seriously, had they always been so _green?),_ nor the way she tilted her head back to laugh openly into the air.

“So, doctor, huh?” Kakashi asked, eyeing her white coat.

Sakura grinned; it was an expression that was so unfamiliar, Kakashi found himself staring at her mouth in curiosity. She didn't notice. “I suppose I'm a full-fledged doctor now, if that's what this coat means. But I refer to myself as a medic. I'm not in it for the title,” she paused. “Though Doctor Haruno sounds rather nice, doesn't it?”

Kakashi agreed.

They reached his home and Sakura released his arm, offering a warm smile that was just so _Sakura_ that the man couldn't help but return it. “Welcome home, Kakashi,” she said.

Something made the man pause, before nodding his head and thanking the medic for her company and help. It wasn't until he entered his apartment, shut the door, and the young woman was long gone did the Copy-nin realize what felt so strange: Sakura didn't refer to him as her sensei.

A bemused smile stretched across his lips. 

Four years was a long time.

.

.

Over the next few days, Kakashi found himself recovering rather quickly, particularly due to the nurses sent from the hospital to check up on him. He wondered why Sakura wasn't the one showing up at his door, but he supposed she was busy—saving lives and all. On the fifth day, however, he brought this up to the nurse attending to the gash at his side.

The dark haired woman only blinked in mild surprise, before continuing to ring out the towel she had just dunked into a bowl of water. “I'm fairly certain Haruno-senpai is on a mission,” she answered absently, “I'll tell her you asked for her.”

Kakashi shrugged, “No need.”

Nevertheless, that very evening Sakura arrived at his doorstep with an excited Naruto, ready to gush about the mission they had just accomplished over a bottle of sake.

“Are you guys even _allowed_ to drink?” Kakashi asked, unable to hide the skepticism in his tone.

Naruto was the one who took offense. “You've been gone four years, old man! A lot has changed since then! Did you notice I'm as tall as you, now?” To demonstrate this, the blond straightened up to full height.

Kakashi certainly noticed that they were of nearly equal stature.

“I think Kakashi is a little taller, still,” Sakura said with a smirk meant entirely to tease her dear comrade. Would he ever get used to her referring to him without his former title? It was disconcerting. As if he hopped into a time machine and went straight into the future. She lifted the bottle of cold sake and eyed the two men. “Well?”

.

.

Three hours later found the trio sitting in Kakashi's living room, eight bottles deep.

“And then Sakura-chan, did this thing that was so funny—what was it Sakura-chan?” Naruto leaned heavily on his side, eyes half-open as he prompted the woman to recall her hilarious encounter with a rather handsy Genma.

Sakura laughed at the memory, nearly snorting. “Oh, _Genma,_ ” she shook her head, hand at her forehead. “I forgot about that night! It was my eighteenth birthday,” she began, fixing her dazed eyes on the head of silver watching her in amusement. “He challenged me to a drinking match,” the medic chuckled, tilting her head back to laugh because this memory was _just so funny_. “And he...he must have not realized that I could,” she paused, searching for words, “metabolize the alcohol from my system. It was hilarious. He got so drunk.”

Naruto laughed so hard he tumbled onto his side on the carpeted floor, just missing the empty stack of ramen bowls near his head. “He...he leaned over the bar and tossed chunks! He was banned for an entire year!” There were tears on the corner of his eyes. “A _year!_ ”

Despite the sake clouding his mind, Kakashi did the math. “Your eighteenth? Wasn't I here for that?” he recalled distantly. That was precisely four years ago, he distinctly remembered her inviting him out for her birthday.

Sakura smiled, it was soft and nostalgic. “You were busy,” she said lightly, before pouring herself another shot of cool sake. Before bringing it to her lips, she lifted it to him, “but we're having that drink you owed me now, aren't we? Took you long enough.” There it was again, the smirk, the coy look in her eyes.

Kakashi poured himself another cup as well. “And knowing Genma, you guys made a bet, did you?”

The usually professional medic nodded. “He wanted a kiss.”

“Good thing you won,” the Copy-Nin said.

“Oh, I still kissed him,” Sakura added frankly. “How could I not? It's _Genma_.” Naruto's snore drew her gaze to the sleeping blond and she missed the utter look of shock in her former sensei's single good eye. “He's out like a light. I'm sorry, Kakashi, we weren't supposed to be here so long. We should go.” She moved to wake Naruto, but the older man caught her elbow. She watched him as he searched for what he wanted to say.

“Stay. It's nice to have some company once in awhile. Let the idiot sleep.”

Sakura regarded him a moment longer, before easing back to her seat on the ground and grinned. “So are you going to stare at me all night or pour me more sake?”

Kakashi decided that he quite preferred this older Sakura.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, while she told him about her studies and progress, he entertained the idea of what her lips might feel like.

.

.

When morning hit, so did their awful, dumb, decision to drink until dawn. Naruto grumbled something intelligible as he sat up, cracking his back. “Geez, you'd think with all the money that old geezer gets from all his missions, he'd invest in softer carpet.”

“I'm right here, you know,” came Kakashi's voice from the ground. He wondered when the last time he drank so heavily was. They must have knocked down at least eight large sake bottles on their own, which is nothing compared to what he's seen Genma toss back, but he was no spring chicken anymore. His limbs told him as much as he attempted to sit up. A groan escaped from his parched mouth. To his surprise, a glass of water was presented before him.

Sakura was up, looking too put together and wearing a much too cheerful smile that made him hate life. “You should drink water,” she instructed, still holding the glass.

Kakashi took it and quenched his thirst. Only after he upended the glass did he acknowledge her obviously well-rested state. “How—?”

“Chakra metabolism and what-not,” she answered with a wave of her hand. “I'll get you more water.” She disappeared back into the kitchen, leaving Kakashi to stare glumly at the ground for his poor decisions.

“I hate her, too,” Naruto grumbled, shielding his eyes from the sunshine. “She always suggests going drinking and then just avoids the hangover the next day. What kind of bonding is that?”

To her credit, Sakura returned with a tray of scrambled eggs, toast, and freshly brewed coffee.

Naruto's eyes brightened. “You're the best, Sakura-chan!”

She scowled at him. “I distinctly remember you saying that you hate me.”

He pouted, “You know I was joking!”

“Damn right,” the woman muttered, setting the tray before the ravenous men. “I have to go to work. Try not to die of dehydration, OK?”

“Bye, Sakura-chan!” Naruto sang as she made to leave.

Before she could open the door, however, a quick hand beat her to it. She spun to find the host standing behind her, good eye crinkled with a polite smile. “Have a good day, Sakura,” Kakashi said, “Thank you for breakfast.”

The medic nodded. “Anytime. That was fun.”

As she left, Kakashi couldn't help but agree. That _was_ fun.

.

.

“Were my eyes playing tricks on me, or did I spy a mop of rather messy pink hair leaving your apartment this morning?”

Kakashi didn't have to lower his beloved book to acknowledge the man who approached. He merely flipped to the next page. “You did,” he said simply, wondering just what Genma might think of it.

“Back a week and already you convince that vixen to come home with you?” A laugh. “And here I thought you might've lost your touch being on a solo mission all these years!”

The Copy-Nin couldn't keep the smile from spreading beneath his mask and he glanced up at his friend. “Since when is Sakura synonymous with _vixen_?” he dared to ask.

Genma sat by his long-time comrade, senbon balanced expertly between his lips as he leaned back onto his elbows, watching the clouds drift by above. “Since the Christmas party four years ago,” he laughed, recalling some hilarious memory Kakashi was not privy to.

“And what happened at the Christmas party four years ago?” Kakashi asked, containing his interest.

Genma shrugged. “Just the usual stuff,” he answered, looking over at his friend. “ _You've_ been to those Jounin parties. You know how crazy they can be.”

That got the silver-haired man's attention. “Jounin party?”

“She didn't tell you? That former student of yours is a Jounin now!” Genma chuckled, “She's grown, Hatake. She's a woman now. Don't tell me you haven't noticed. She was over your place, and I'm assuming it wasn't for tea.”

Kakashi ignored the suggestive tone in his counterpart's voice and returned his attention to the novel at hand. “No, it was for sake.”

Let Genma take hat however he wished.

“I've got to go meet with the Hokage.”

With that said, Kakashi disappeared.

Of course, he didn't _really_ have a meeting with Tsunade, but he couldn't quite wrap his head around the facts that:

1) Sakura was a _vixen—_ what the hell did that mean anyways? Not that he was unaware of the type of woman Genma constituted as vixens, but why was Sakura one? What happened?

And 2) She was Jounin, now! A _Jounin_. Why hadn't she mentioned that? She had been a Jounin for four years! Did it happen before he left? Why wouldn't she tell him?

They were equals.

Somehow, that was slightly disconcerting.

Up until he left, the Copy-nin had always regarded Sakura with the affection an uncle might have for a niece. He recognized her growth, her strength, her abilities, and respected her for them. Certainly, he knew she'd grow up, as well, likely in grace, but he never entertained the idea that he might be so confused in his view of her. He was fourteen years her senior!

But _Genma_ had kissed her, and Genma was older than him!

Kakashi had no idea what to make of this information and decided not to dwell on it further lest he go crazy. Perhaps it was time to take on another mission to just avoid this awkward situation.

By nightfall, he decided it was safe to leave the heay canopy of Konoha forest and make his way home. Usually his shinobi instincts were on the mark, but if he had left five minutes earlier or five minutes later, he would not have bumped right into Genma, Hayate, and Anko on their way to the bar. With some needling and rather forceful displays of affection from Anko, they convinced the Copy-Nin to tag along.

Perhaps he needed to reminisce about old times with old friends and not former students? Maybe then things would be right with the world and Sakura would not be a vixen and he wouldn't wonder at the softness of her lips.

They walked into the bar, the silver-haired man in tow, and claimed their usual table. Kakashi's stool was particularly wobbly, just as he remembered it.

“So, Hatake, what have you been up to?” Anko queried over her beer. “It's been so damn long. It's weird seeing you sitting there. Your big gray head blocking my view of the delicious bartender,” and with that she leaned her head to the side to shoot a wink at the decidedly young-looking man behind the counter.

Kakashi took a sip of his drink. “Well if no one told you, I was on a mission these past four years,” he deadpanned, arching a brow at the brunette currently making lewd eyes towards the bar.

“She's not listening,” Hayate supplied. “She does this every time.”

“Enough about Anko and her exploits. Tell us about _yours_ ,” Genma grinned.

Hayate's brows rose. “Oh? Haven't you been recovering this past week or so?”

“What man doesn't have the energy to rattle the head board!” Genma exclaimed, slapping a hand on his comrade's back. “This silver fox wasted no time upon his homecoming. So what happened, Hatake?”

Kakashi shrugged and took another drink of his beer. “She showed up with sake and we were up until dawn.”

Genma whistled. “That Haruno's stamina is rather impressive from what I remember—”

Kakashi nearly broke his glass in his tight grip.

Genma felt the tension and laughed. “It was a _joke_ , Kakashi.”

Hayate, however, seemed impressed. “Sakura? Really?”

Kakashi wasn't sure he liked talking about his _former student_ in such a context. “She and Naruto came over to catch up,” he revealed, earning a rather disappointed glare from the senbon-chewing Jounin. “Hey, it's not my fault your dirty mind jumps to conclusions.”

Anko decided to return to the conversation at hand, seeing as gossip was involved. “I heard that she only gives in to such temptations when she's away on missions. Not wanting to get involved with people at home and on her teams and all that garbage. I think it's quite noble of her, really. She fills her needs and lives her life. I say cheers to that!”

“Who can blame her for not wanting to get attached? That Uchiha really screwed her up.”

Kakashi stood from the table. “I'm going home.”

“Already? You barely had any of your drink!” Genma protested.

The Copy-Nin scowled and finished his full beer with impressive speed before leaving. In hindsight, he shouldn't have downed the entirety of the pint in approximately six seconds flat. He was feeling its effects soon after parting ways. His head was getting woozier and his steps less purposeful as he wandered down the road heading who-knows-where. He found himself at the bridge he often met his Genin team at, and leaned against the railing.

Moonlight lit the surface, but otherwise the lake was a sheet of backness that rippled here and there. Kakashi pondere the idea of jumping in because that sounded so refreshing. He shrugged off his flak jacket and was in the midst of lifting the long-sleeved shirt he wore beneath it when a familiar voice interrupted him.

“Why do you keep insisting on flashing civilians?”

He lowered his shirt and offered an eye-crinkling smile at the medic approaching. Her hair appeared almost purple in the moonlight. “Ah, Sakura, just the woman I needed,” Kakashi said cheerfully.

Judging by the stack of papers in her hands, she had just gotten off work. Sakura hesitated, eyeing him warily, before coming nearer. “And why do you need me, Kakashi?” she implored quietly, cautiously, unsure of just what the hell was happening.

Kakashi turned to her then, hip absently hitting the railing as he did so. “Make me better?” he asked so pitifully that the young woman laughed.

“What happened to you?” She grinned, deciding to help the man with the alcohol in his system. Setting down her pile of paperwork, she turned to the once again inebriated Hatake Kakashi. Green swathed one hand and she placed it over his toned middle, allowing her free hand to hold him steady.

“Genma,” Kakashi mumbled into the sleeve of her tunic before leaning forward and resting his head on her shoulder, bracing himself with the railing for support.

The medic could feel his hot breath trickle through her fabric and she ignored it as best she could, instead focusing on the task at hand: sobering up her former sensei. “Ah, yes. Genma can be a handful,” she agreed.

“He says you're a vixen,” Kakashi prompted.

He could hear Sakura's smirk in her tone. “And?”

“Why does he say you're a vixen?” the Copy-Nin pressed.

Sakura laughed then and pushed Kakashi up so he could stand on his own. His balance improved, and he blinked at the realization that he felt a thousand times better. “What does it matter what Genma thinks of me?” she said with that tilted smile that Kakashi couldn't seem to forget, “You should draw your own conclusions. Do you think I'm a vixen?”

Kakashi scowled, thoughtful. “No. But I also didn't realize you're a Jounin, now.”

“You heard, huh?” She appeared bemused.

“That bit of truth was also revealed by Genma.”

“You shouldn't believe everything you hear,” Sakura admonished as she bent down to retrieve his flak jacket. “I don't recall you ever forming opinions based on rumors.” The medic shrugged a single shoulder, and he could have sworn that devious glint in her eye was not a trick of the moonlight. “You always found things out for yourself. Why stop now?”

He simply stared at her, suddenly coherent mind trying its best to piece together her words.

Sakura smiled at his silence, “Good night, Kakashi.”

Hatake Kakashi, in a state of sober mind, seriously contemplated jumping into the river.

.

.


	2. Chapter 2

.

.

* * *

**Acquiescence**

—

It took about two more weeks before the Copy-Nin was able to deal with the reality that Sakura had grown so much. Rather, that he was affected by her growth. After another month or so, he simply stopped dwelling on the fact that she was a full-fledged, sake-drinking, Jounin-ranked woman and decided to treat her as a comrade with whom, yes, he could occasionally flirt with. 

Because that was simply in the nature of close friends. Right? _Right?_ Genma said as much, and despite the precaution against listening to Genma, Kakashi found Sakura was rather fun to have around as an equal. It sure beat spending time with Anko.

Which was why, that particular weekend afternoon as he wandered the village, nose buried in his favorite series, Kakashi paused before the hospital and decided to drop in. The receptionist in the lobby greeted him with a smile. “Hatake-san, what brings you here?” she asked, voice a tad too sweet.

Kakashi returned her smile with the polite, eye-crinkling one of his own and waved. “Just wanted to see if Sakura has time for lunch.”

“She's very busy today,” the receptionist said. “I'll let her know you dropped by.”

Kakashi doubted she would, but he nodded his thanks and turned to leave—

“Kakashi?”

He spun around to see a vision of white and pink stepping out of an elevator.

“What are you doing here?” Sakura asked, approaching the reception desk to drop off some paperwork. “Did you need something?”

The Copy-Nin shrugged. “Do I need a reason? Tsunade's not letting me leave the village for another solid three months. It's torture.”

“It's a vacation,” Sakura grinned. “I was just about to head out for a lunch break. Would you like to join?”

Kakashi glanced at the receptionist who was suddenly very busy with a phone call. “Sure.”

Sakura's idea of a lunch break consisted of a pre-packed salad and bowl of fruit on a bench right outside the hospital. She was settled in her seat when she glanced back up at her old mentor. He stared at her dubiously, head tilted to the side. “What is it?” She asked, looking around. “Is something wrong?”

“Yes,” the Jounin declared. “Your idea of a lunch break. Come one, I'll get us some yakitori.”

“I don't have _that_ long of a break!” Sakura protested, but he had already removed her salad and fruit from her lap and packed them up. “Kakashi, are you even listening?”

“Hmm? Yeah, yeah, sure. Come on.”

She rolled her eyes. “Hatake Kakashi,” she intoned, “I have precisely fifteen minutes to eat my lunch. You can either take it or leave it.”

Kakashi looked back at her and shrugged. “Fine. Don't make dinner plans, then.”

Without another word he disappeared in a wisp of smoke.

Sakura shook her head and couldn't seem to stop grinning the rest of the day.

.

.

The two of them sitting across from each other, having grilled meat and talking about particularly troublesome patients or old women making passes at the silver-haired Jounin, was as natural as breathing. Sakura's laugh was infectious, and Kakashi admired the way she tossed her head back, without a care in the world, enjoying the moment so fully.

“How do you do it, Sakura?” he asked, watching her gain control of her amusement.

“How do I do what?”

“Suppress all that you know of the world and just...be so happy?”

Sakura watched him then, calculating, eyes curious and soft and _green_ , before taking a sip of her tea. “Well, I suppose what I've learned from life as a shinobi is to find joy in the moments when you can.”

Kakashi regarded her with a renewed interest and noted the pink dusting her forehead. “You are...something else,” he said with such sincerity that the woman in question turned a deeper pink and avoided his gaze. He found some satisfaction in the fact that she was blushing because of him and wondered what he could do or say to bring that flush about again.

Dinner continued pleasantly enough and was followed by some drinks at the bar. Naruto joined them, along with Genma and Ino and other off-duty shinobi. It was so effortless, being together, catching up though they had been partaking in these get-togethers every weekend for the better part of two months.

“Tsunade-baa-chan is sending me on a mission tomorrow,” Naruto declared with something like impatience. “About time, too! I'm dying to get out of this village for more than a few days.”

“How long will you be gone?” Sakura asked out of sheer curiosity.

Genma however took the opportunity to nudge her. “Why, you going to miss him?”

Sakura laughed and swatted his arm. “Of course I am, but not in the way you're suggesting, dirty old man.”

“You wound me, Sakura,” he said.

Ino laughed, sending the senbon-philiac a suggestive wink. “Dirty old men have the most experience,” she teased, earning an appreciative smirk from the dark-haired Jounin.

“Ew guys, quit it,” Naruto insisted, “I'm trying to enjoy my beer over here.”

“As if you wouldn't enjoy seeing something perverted,” Ino snapped. “You're always reading those dirty books.”

“They have really good plot-lines!” Naruto defended.

Kakashi silently agreed.

Sakura, however, snorted into her drink. “And buxom, scantily-clad leading ladies.”

No one could contest that.

The evening ended with the friends parting ways. Kakashi turned to leave when Sakura's voice stilled him.

“Is Ino right?”

Slowly, he turned to face the young woman whose hair turned lavender under the moonlight. “About what?”

Sakura visibly hesitated, before taking a step forward. He was within arm's reach of her, and her hand lifted, before dropping to her side. Strange. “About dirty old men,” she clarified. She didn't seem to be too affected by the alcohol in her system, and despite how much or little they all drank, she would just metabolize it through her quickly, wouldn't she? Even so, she just barely swayed on her two feet.

Kakashi blinked slowly, recalling what the blonde had said earlier. “Theoretically, I suppose. But it'd be impossible to be certain without surveying all the dirty old men, wouldn't it?”

The medic hummed in contemplation, gaze washing over the silver-haired Jounin as if she was seeing him for the first time. “I suppose so.”

Silence.

Akward.

Kakashi shifted, “Well...”

“And you?” Sakura persisted, taking another, albeit smaller, step forward. “Do you consider yourself a dirty old man?”

The air thinned around him; it was impossible to breathe. Kakashi remained still. “That depends: am I an old man?”

“No,” Sakura answered lightly. “You're not old at all.”

Somehow, that made him swell up inside.

“But you do strike me as dirty,” she admitted.

 _You have no idea_. He cleared his throat. “Is that all, Sakura?”

She grinned then, eyes obviously amused. “I've got a mission, too. Leaving in a week.”

“Oh?” Kakashi _really_ should be going.

“Yes. I need to seduce a dirty old man.” She paused, then, with a small wave, turned to leave. “Goodnight, Kakashi.”

He watched her walk away, both confused and frustrated by the fact that she had to seduce anyone at all. And why the hell had he held his breath for so long? Kakashi frowned, opting not to answer that question or even acknowledge it for that matter, and promptly retired to his apartment to take a long, cold shower.

.

.

The next morning Kakashi and Sakura saw Naruto off with his teammates. The air was dry, telling of the brink between summer and autumn, and Sakura was bundled in a scarf. Kakashi eyed her acutely as she gave the blond a fierce hug and demanded that he come home in one piece.

Only when he was gone did Sakura turn to her silver-headed counterpart. “About last night,” she began, but Kakashi waved a dismissive hand.

“What about it?”

Sakura grinned. “I meant it when I said you're not old,” she finished.

Kakashi's brow rose, and he couldn't help the lopsided smile beneath his mask. “Oh? You weren't just sparing my feelings?”

The woman laughed and dug her hands into her coat pockets as they turned to enter the village. “You can't be older than what—thirty-four? Thirty-five?”

“ _Twenty-nine_ ,” Kakashi insisted, earning him a playful punch on the arm.

“Please, you've been twenty-nine since I was a Genin.”

Kakashi chuckled, moving to bump against her side. “Astute, as always,” he conceded. “My birthday was this past September,” he revealed.

“Huh, you returned right after your birthday, didn't you?” Sakura realized, stopping to look at him. He shrugged. “We have four years of missed birthdays to celebrate,” she asserted, offering that gut-twisting grin of hers he couldn't seem to get accustomed to.

“And what does that entail?” Kakashi dared to venture, decidedly looking anywhere but at her striking, heart-stopping, smile. _Hmm, the clouds are rather fluffy this morning..._

Sakura continued her pace, leading their way through the streets, and hummed in thought. “Four parties,” she finally decided. “We'll need to wait for Naruto to get back, of course.”

“Of course,” he agreed, amused.

“You're going to need a new liver by the end of it,” the medic laughed as she shoved him lightly to walk ahead.

“Sakura, you're going to be the death of me,” he muttered, detecting the faint scent of cucumber and melon from her brief proximity.

She led them to a coffee shop, declaring it was far too early to begin work without some caffeine, and scowled when Kakashi insisted that he forgot his wallet—“Good for nothing leech.”—before continuing on their way to the hospital.

“So thirty-five, huh?” Sakura mused idly, blowing on her coffee. “What's that feel like?”

Kakashi was never one to discuss age so openly, in fact he rarely discussed anything personal with anyone ever. But at this point, something as shallow as age seemed so impersonal that he merely shrugged. “The same as thirty-six does,” he hinted.

Sakura laughed. “Wait. Thirty- _six_? I take it back, you are officially old—” she proceeded to trip over absolutely nothing and glared at the inconspicuous man whistling beside her.

“Enough about how ancient I am. Are you prepared for this mission of yours?” Kakashi asked, very carefully and casually changing the subject.

“Of course,” was her simple reply. “It's not my first seduction mission, Kakashi,” she added for no apparent reason.

 _Except to infuriate you_ , the Copy-Nin mentally growled. “Oh?” he said instead.

“Mhmm, I've done plenty. Oh, we're here. See you later?”

He moved through the motions of good-byes and catch-you-laters and waving and walking away, all with three words playing over and over in his mind:

I've done plenty.

I've done plenty.

 _I've done plenty_.

.

.

BAM!

The doors burst open, startling a rather busy and furious Hokage. She glared at the intrusion. “What the hell do you want, Hatake?” she demanded, expression informing him of the fact that _it better be good_.

He met her gaze dead-on and cleared his throat: “Sakura is not fit for her upcoming mission. She is—” _Think, Kakashi, think— “_...depressed.”

Tsunade blinked, processing the given information. “Depressed,” she repeated looking at Kakashi through unamused eyes.

“Yes,” he said, with conviction. “You should send the Yamanaka girl. Or the Hyuuga—I've heard she doesn't faint at the sight of Naruto anymore.”

Tsunade massaged her temples. “What on earth gives you the impression that Sakura is depressed? She is of sound mental state to go on a mission. I evaluated her myself.”

“Kakashi?” A soft voice came from behind him and he cringed.

“Ah, Sakura,” Tsunade said, looking utterly cross. “Just the person I needed—come in, will you?”

Sakura did so, eyeing both her former mentors warily. “Yes, Hokage-sama?”

“Are you depressed?”

The younger medic blanched. “What? No, why would you think that?”

Tsunade scowled, glancing back at the Copy-Nin who stood stock-still. Then it clicked. That damned silver-haired idiot. “Some patients mentioned a medic who seemed rather distracted at work and they insisted it was your name. Figures that they wouldn't recall your hair, it must not have been you. I just had to be certain. You may go.”

Sakura bowed and, with a quick nod Kakashi's way, left to resume her duties.

Tsunade leaned back in her chair, steepling her hands before her. “Well there we have it. She's fine.”

“You're going to _trust_ her?”

“Are _you_ depressed, Hatake?” She studied him then, eyes narrowing.

“What? No, I—”

Tsunade pressed on. “Are you tired of your stay here in Konoha? You probably feel cooped up. Maybe a four month vacation is not something a shinobi like you desires.” Rifling through some paperwork, the Hokage found the folder and opened it up, scrawling something on the documents within. “You will hereby be offered a mission—one partner is actually incapacitated at the moment; I needed a new man to send. Do you accept?”

Time to get away from the village? He _was_ feeling restless.

“Aa, Hokage-sama.”

Tsunade smirked. “Great. You will be accompanying one, Haruno Sakura, on her reconnaissance mission. You leave in a week. Report to me in five days for your mission scroll. That is all.”

_Reconnaissance?_

.

.

“Hey, partner.”

Kakashi didn't bother glancing up from his present entertainment.

A body sat down beside him; he detected cucumber and melon. _How tranquil—Shut up, brain. What do you know?_ He coughed, “I'm busy, Sakura.” He flipped a page, making a point to ignore her. “Bother me later.”

The medic scoffed. “Don't pretend you don't enjoy my company. You tried to get me off my mission. Why?”

When he did look at her, he wished he hadn't. He expected to see hurt in her eyes, from distrust or whatever other nonsensical reason. That was what younger Sakura would have done. But he didn't see younger Sakura; she was older, wiser, and far more confusing. Instead, the woman was blank, nonchalant. When did she become so nonchalant?

Kakashi shrugged, lifting the novel to block his line of sight. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

Sakura expelled a breath and in his mind he wondered if she was scrunching up her nose as she often did when she was angry. “You're mad at me,” she observed, eyeing her former mentor through keen eyes. And then, with amusement: “Why are you mad at _me_?”

Kakashi didn't answer, figuring she would simply take it as fact that he _was_ quite busy and to just _leave him be_. She didn't, of course. Instead, the young woman settled on the grass and stretched out with feline-grace, laying her head in her hands to stare up at the gray mass above them. A particularly blinding portion of the sky along the horizon was the only indication that the sun was setting.

The Copy-Nin sighed, arching a brow at the medic who just might have fallen asleep. She looked so damn peaceful, wrapped in layers and a warm scarf. She was paler than usual, or was it just cold? Maybe she was low on iron. “Sakura, what do you want?” he finally prompted.

Without even opening her eyes, she answered. “You wanted me off my assignment. Is it because you think I'm incapable?”

—Ah, that insecurity was certainly reminiscent of the Sakura he knew long ago.—

“Because I have to say: you're a load of bull.”

“Excuse me?” Kakashi had to lower his book to address her.

Sakura sat up then, languid and suspicious. “You're such an ass. Gone for four years and you think you know everybody. Four years is a long time, Kakashi—” she paused then, reading the shock in his only exposed eye. “Do you really think I've improved so little?”

“No—”

“Or is it that you think I can't handle a seduction mission because I've already told you that this is far from my first one—”

“— _Sakura_.” He brandished the authoritative tone he used only as a Jounin teacher. It had the desired effect: Sakura shut up. She watched him, mouth pursed together, eyes filled with the rant that went unsaid. Kakashi shut his novel and tucked it into his chest pocket. “If you've changed so much, why do you feel this need to prove yourself to me?”

She pondered his words, all the while meeting his gaze. Behind her eyes he could see the tantrum brewing, the tempest swirling, but she remained silent. He half expected her to lunge at him and pummel him with her fists. Somehow, her silence was even worse. Eventually, Sakura stood and stormed away.

Kakashi watched her go. Had he been too harsh? He didn't think so. But perhaps now that the order of things was restored, he wouldn't have such infuriatingly confusing feelings regarding a pink-haired medic. And besides, she'd get over it. She'd have to. They were going on a mission together in a week.

Even so, he was well-aware of the woman's infamous temper and he doubted he would see much of her prior to their mission which was why, as he meandered down the street later that evening, he was surprised to see a kunai lodge itself in his path with a single note attached:

_Training Ground 3._

He chose to ignore it and continued on his way home.

Settled in bed with some tea and a book, Kakashi was very much ready to retire for the night when a loud knock on the door drew his attention to the pesky young woman at his porch.

“ _Kakashi!_ ”

Of course, he had sensed her chakra from blocks away; it was as if she purposefully emanated it so as to alert him of her arrival.

“Hatake Kakashi, I know you're in there, you dirty old man!”

So much for not being 'old.'

“Kakashi!”

He grunted and rolled out of bed, taking his time to walk down the hall and to the front door. Just as he opened it, Sakura's fist was about to knock, instead pounding against his bare chest. She withdrew it, red-faced and furious. Kakashi sighed and leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over his torso. “Yes, Sakura?”

Lips parted, the young medic simply stared. There was a beat of silence where Kakashi wondered if she had been paralyzed, but Sakura scowled, fixing her ( _brilliant_ ) gaze on his masked face. “You didn't come train with me,” she accused in a manner that was in accordance with her Genin days.

“I had things to do,” Kakashi answered flippantly, resting his temple against the door frame. “What is it that you want, Sakura?”

She closed her mouth and he could see the thoughts running behind her gaze. He took that moment to allow his eyes to take in the utter redness of her nose, the curve of her brows, and the dryness of her lips. In that instant, he forgot what she looked like as a young girl; the person standing before him, despite her rather childish temper, was clearly a grown woman. The fact that she took the time to compose herself before simply going off on a rant said as much. And so Kakashi waited.

Finally, Sakura spoke. “You asked me if I thought you were old,” she said carefully. “I don't think you are, and that's the truth. But I feel like you see me as young. Do you?”

Kakashi frowned. “You _are_ young—”

“That's not what I meant and you know it,” she cut in.

“Sakura. You're...what? Nineteen or something?”

“You _know_ I'm twenty-two.”

“Nineteen, twenty-two, what's the difference?” Kakashi mused, straightening himself up to full stature. “It barely matters at that young of an age.”

She stepped forward, sizing up the Copy-Nin. He was admittedly far taller than her but the ferocity behind Sakura's presence was something to be reckoned with. “You act as though I'm twelve. You pretend that I'm fifteen. Well, I was eighteen when you left. _Eighteen_. You had no idea what I'd done. _Who_ I'd done—”

—Inappropriate thoughts came unbidden that the Copy-Nin forcibly buried deep, deep down in the crevices of his dirty, dirty mind—

“—and you dare go to Tsunade to say I'm not qualified for missions I've completed plenty of times in your absence?” Sakura poked him in the chest, fingertip freezing from the brisk air. “You're not my sensei, and you haven't been in a long time. You have no right to interfere with my career.”

Kakashi caught her hand; the warmth against her cool palm was startling and Sakura tensed. His lone dark eye peered down into her face, as if he was seeing through her. And then he dropped her hand and stepped back. “You're right,” he conceded quietly. “I missed you maturing. Even at fifteen you were a child. Even now, fully grown, I see you as a child. I shouldn't protect you, anymore. You don't need it.”

Sakura wasn't sure how to respond.

“With that said, there's nothing you can do to change the way I see you. You were my pupil once, and though we're equals now, I will always, _always_ consider you a student. A dear friend and ally, but always a former student. That's a bond that I can't forget or discard.”

Silence.

“Alright, then,” Sakura said tiredly, nipping at her lower lip. “Thank you for being honest with me.”

“There is one thing I'm curious about,” Kakashi admitted. “You told me you were going on a seduction mission.” Had it not been for the mask, his lopsided smile would have been obvious. “Tsunade said it's reconnaissance.”

Sakura grinned and his heart constricted at the sight of it. “Maybe I wanted you to think I'm a vixen,” she said in a tone that did nothing to assuage the tightness in his chest. “Goodnight, Kakashi.”

The door closed and Kakashi leaned back against it, cursing the heavens for having his former pupil grow up to be so...so....

“I need a drink,” he grunted, pushing away from the door and making his way to the bedroom to tug on a shirt. It was still early, afterall. And he _was_ on vacation.

Ten minutes later found the silver-haired Jounin entering his usual pub. It didn't take long for him to spot his dark-haired friend at the bar chatting up a pretty girl. Genma's brows rose at the sight of the usually solitary Copy-Nin out on a weeknight. Kakashi nodded in greeting before turning to the bartender. “Sake.”

Eventually, Genma nudged his arm. “So what brings the infamous Hatake Kakashi out tonight? Usually I have to drag you to go anywhere.”

Kakashi shrugged. “I really needed a drink.”

“Cheers to that,” the brunet responded.

They drank and talked as men do and Kakashi felt infinitely better when his mind was distracted from troubling thoughts pertaining to pink hair and pink lips and pink lashes. Genma informed Kakashi of the goings-on within the village: deaths, promotions, politics regarding other villages, and of course his sexual escapades. Kakashi listened, sharing very little information himself.

But as luck would have it, _she_ came in with her chatty friend and Kakashi regretted every decision he had ever made in his life; _why_ did the world hate him? 

She discarded her coat and hooked it on the back of her chair and she laughed at something the blonde gossip said. And she tucked a strand of pink behind her flushed ear and crossed a leg over the other. She was so womanly and lithe and _brilliant_ that Kakashi turned away.

Genma didn't seem to notice.

If Sakura saw him, she didn't wave.

But he found that throughout the night, his dark eye wandered back to her table. There were two men sitting there, too. And neither were Naruto. They seemed to be on a double date—not that Kakashi cared, it was mere observation. And then one was kissing Ino's hand and Sakura laughed at something the other one said. She didn't toss her head back, though.

It was hot. Was it hot in there? Kakashi shrugged off his vest.

“Oh, look.” Oh no. “If it isn't those lovely ladies.”

Kakashi scowled. “Leave them alone, Genma. They're on dates.”

Genma scoffed, “With those civilian boys? Please. Women like them need _men_ , Hatake.” And he went over towards the table to utterly steal Ino's attention. Kakashi remained at his stool and pretended not to notice Sakura's small wave of greeting.

Perhaps he did too good of a job as she claimed Genma's abandoned seat. “Yo,” she said simply, not looking at him.

“Yo,” Kakashi responded, taking a drink of his sake.

“I'm sorry I got so angry with you,” Sakura began, to which her silver-haired counterpart shook his head in dismissal. She ignored it. “And I'm sorry I lied. I suppose I wanted to get a rise out of you somehow,” she admitted sheepishly. “You always saw me as a child—I wondered what it'd be like if you saw me as a woman. I get it now, though,” the medic continued, glancing over at his stoic face. “I suppose a part of me will always see you as my sensei.”

Kakashi's grip tightened on his cup. “Why,” he hesitated, finding the proper words. “Why did you want me to see you in a different way?” he ventured precariously, still refusing to look at her.

The medic hummed in thought, tapping her finger against her beer. “I suppose...I suppose it was because I never felt like I made an impression on the men around me. Naruto didn't see me any differently than he always had. None of my friends. I wanted to make someone see me in that way—as a _woman_. It's disappointing feeling like I'm an adult but not being treated like one.”

She sounded so damn _sad_. Kakashi sighed and relented, turning towards her. “Sakura—” What could he say? “You're obviously a woman. Any idiot can see that. But consider our history. You were my student. It'd be...strange...for me to admit that I see you in any other kind of light. Does that make sense?”

“Are you saying that you've noticed I'm a woman now?” Sakura prompted, casually tracing the rim of her glass.

Kakashi rolled his eyes. “What do _you_ think?”

She smiled then, straightening up on the stool. “Pervert,” she teased.

The Copy-Nin pushed her off her seat.

It was far too easy to spend his time with her, and that wasn't news. Their banter was natural, and when he wasn't reminding himself to _look away_ from her pink, beer-moistened lips, he found that he could suppress indecent thoughts and thoroughly enjoy her company. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was aware that the patrons around them were dwindling. 

Eventually the bar was closing and they left. He wasn't particularly drunk—was he drunk at all?—but there was a warmth in him that must have been alcohol-induced.

They walked until they reached a fork and Sakura paused, as if waiting for him to say something.

“Goodnight, Sakura,” he nodded as he turned to head home.

Her voice, soft and clear in the quiet of the night, stopped him. “Why did you go to Tsunade.” It didn't sound like a question at all. “You thought my mission was to seduce the target. Why did you feel the need to go to Tsunade?”

Without turning around, the Copy-Nin answered, “I couldn't stand the idea of my former student doing that.”

“I don't believe you,” she revealed. When he didn't respond, she continued. “I _am_ a woman now, you know,” Sakura declared with all the confidence of someone who knew what she wanted. “And if I'm not mistaken, we were just on a date. And at the end of a date, women are typically given a goodnight kiss.”

Kakashi turned to look at her, hands in his pockets. He toyed with the idea of acquiescing, wondering just where it might lead, but thought better of it. She was twenty-two, but still obviously naïve. She had no idea _what_ she wanted or what she was asking. “Sakura, I didn't ask you out tonight. We were just friends who ran into each other at a bar.”

“And if we weren't?” the woman prompted, breathless, or so it seemed.

“Then I would kiss you goodnight,” he said quietly.

Sakura unwrapped her scarf from her face, revealing her chapped lips. “So pretend,” she said gently, closing her eyes. “And I'll pretend, too.”

He stared at her, standing there beneath the faint light of the street lamp, eyes closed and waiting for a kiss. Hands flexed and unflexed in his pockets as he teetered on the edge of a decision. Why was she baiting him? What did she want? What did she expect? Perhaps he was over-thinking this. What if she didn't expect anything but a kiss? What if she wanted something more? How drunk was she? How drunk was _he_?

Oh, fuck it. He strode forward, lowered his mask, and hovered above her waiting mouth.

“Goodnight, Sakura.”

His breath warmed her lips and she opened her eyes in surprise, but he was already gone.

She grinned and went home, oblivious to the distant splash of a body jumping into a river.

.

.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so thankful for everyone who’s left comments and otherwise let me know they enjoy this so far (: the fic is officially written in its entirety, hope you continue to enjoy it~ much love < 3

**.**

**.**

* * *

**Ambivalence**

—

“Here are your mission scrolls,” the Hokage said, sliding two objects across her desk. The shinobi before her nodded, reaching for their documents. “You will engage in a preliminary survey of the enemy—gather what information you can about the layout of their base. In this case, a mansion. You've heard of the kidnappings, yes?”

Sakura nodded, hand tightening about her mission scroll. “The disappearances of daughters from respectable civilian families throughout the villages in Fire Country.”

“We believe it is tied to this man: Kawaguchi Sota. His base is located in Tea Country. We know nothing about him except that he is extremely wealthy and extremely greedy. Your only objective is to gather information about him and his operation.” Her dark eyes flicked from one shinobi to the other, leaving no room for protest. “No one can know Konoha is involved with this: do you understand?”

The duo nodded. “Yes, Hokage-sama.”

Satisfied, Tsunade leaned back in her chair. “Good. You are dismissed.”

.

.

It was your typical recon mission, nothing either nin hadn't done before. They even had three days to get to the village in Tea Country—some little known industrial city that probably didn't belong in a land called 'Tea Country' in the first place. Which was why, rather than rushing through the trees to their destination, the two shinobi who took their job _very_ seriously, saved their energy and strolled. Tsunade had granted them a week to accomplish their task, which all three knew was more than enough time. 

Somehow, Kakashi had the impression that the Hokage expected them to do something with all those extra days but he couldn't figure out _what_.

As he walked slightly behind his teammate, he allowed his thoughts to wander to their encounter a few nights prior. She asked him to kiss her—was she really that drunk? Did she even remember it? Neither shinobi brought it up, as if it had never happened. But the memory was so sharp in his mind that he couldn't shake it. If that was the only opportunity he could have had to do something so frivolous he'd hate himself. Under what circumstances would Sakura ever ask him to kiss her ever again?

Maybe it was a dream.

A really, really realistic dream.

“Kakashi?”

He blinked out of his thoughts and met his teammate's gleaming eyes. “Hm?”

“Did you hear me?” she inquired, amused. “I asked if you'd like to camp out here tonight. It's getting dark and I think we're a little over half way there.”

How long had they been walking for? It was so strange to meander without exerting chakra—he could walk for miles and miles. His view behind Sakura was nice, too. He might never admit it aloud, but there was no denying his utter attraction to her as damning as it was for him. For as long as he'd known her, Sakura was off-limits; he never dared entertain any sordid thoughts regarding her.

Kakashi cleared his throat then and nodded, shrugging off his pack—“Sure. Perfect.”—and knelt on the ground, busying himself with unstrapping his tent. Sakura followed suit, procuring her sleeping bag. He made a point of avoiding her gaze as he slid the poles through the loops of canvas, hoisting up their shelter for the evening.

“I'll get some firewood,” the medic intoned, peering at her counterpart from over her scarf. “Be back soon.”

Kakashi grunted a response as he tossed his sleeping bag into the tent, entertaining the possibility of sleeping underneath the stars and chancing frost-bite.

It wasn't unheard of for shinobi to share a tent, but Sakura had oh-so-conveniently lent her camping gear to Naruto for _his_ long mission since _he_ lost his tent down a waterfall. Whether or not Kakashi believed it didn't matter because Sakura had beamed and very cheerfully said that she could just sleep with him before continuing on her merry way.

He wondered if she was doing all that on purpose.

The woman returned with an armful of firewood and unloaded near the tent, moving to set up the sticks so as to produce the best fire. Kakashi watched her work from between the pages of his favorite book. If she was frustrated that he was allowing her to do all the work, she didn't mention it. In fact, she managed to get the fire going quicker than he anticipated. Sakura drew her hands together in a job well done and crouched by the heat, peering over at her companion.

“You've been awfully quiet,” she noted, situating herself on the ground and relishing the fire's warmth.

Kakashi shrugged. “Am I?”

“You are,” Sakura affirmed. “Is something wrong?”

“What makes you say that?” the Copy-Nin asked pleasantly, turning a page. He heard her stand up, footsteps nearing, and then that wonderfully seductive scent of cucumber and melons was _everywhere_. When he lowered his book she stood before him, hands on hips. “Is there something you need, Sakura?”

She appeared on the brink of a tirade but instead the young medic (who had been rattling about his mind too frequently lately) shook her head and quite purposefully brushed past him to disappear into the tent, leaving the male Jounin acutely aware of the way her hair skimmed over his mask, the silhouette of her torso pressing against his upper arm. “Just hungry,” Sakura sang from within, before emerging with some packs of instant ramen, bottles of water, and a pot. “I'll make us dinner,” she said cheerfully.

When the noodles were done she served him a bowl and he took it pleasantly enough.

He was in the middle of enjoying his meal when Sakura threw a chopstick at him. He caught it with his own chopsticks, and sighed, setting down his bowl. “Is there something you want to discuss?”

“I'm okay with the fact that you can't seem to bear to kiss me. And I'm okay with the fact that you'll never see me as more than a student. But I thought we were at least friends,” the medic ground out.

The fire lit up her eyes in a way no other light could and Kakashi suppressed the desire to just shut her pretty little mouth with a kiss. He refrained, of course. He had an iron will. “I like to think we _are_ friends,” was his response.

Sakura huffed. “We haven't had a proper conversation in four days. I haven't seen you since you almost kissed me.”

Ah, so she did remember.

Kakashi wondered if she still wanted one.

“I'm not offended that you didn't,” the woman elaborated. “But I miss talking to you.”

The Copy-Nin raked a hand through his hair. “We're talking right now,” he insisted.

“You're so immature,” she stated frankly before standing from her place across the fire and, sleeping bag in tow, crawled into the tent. “Goodnight.”

Kakashi shook his head, pretending he didn't notice her silhouette as she moved, the eyelash shadows drawn across her face, or the way her hair absorbed the moonlight. “Sakura,” he called back, throat dry. When she didn't respond, he put out the fire and joined her in the tent. Had it not been for his Sharingan, he wouldn't have even seen her lying there. Her eyes were closed but he knew she was still awake. “Sakura.”

“We have a long day, Kakashi. I suggest you go to sleep,” she muttered.

He wiggled his way into his sleeping bag and stared at the canvas roof overhead. “So...how exactly did Naruto lose his tent?”

A pause, then a laugh. “Well, he was practicing a new trick in the river. I guess he wanted to be able to create a whirlpool and it just got seriously out of hand?”

Kakashi inwardly admitted that he missed talking to Sakura just as much as she missed talking to him.

.

.

They walked in companionable silence as they approached the Tea Country border.

It certainly appeared that what little friendship they had built for themselves upon Kakashi's return to Konoha was restored. Sakura laughed and Kakashi silently wished that the world would stop being so damn cruel to an old man like himself, putting someone like _her_ in his life like that—but he just gave that crinkly-eyed smile and scratched the back of his head. 

As they neared the border, they masked their chakra and utilized simple measures to disguise their most obvious features:

Pink and silver hair.

Sakura tucked her locks up into a straw hat and Kakashi found a stick on the ground and properly hunched over, tossing a cloak over his backpack. The woman laughed when she saw him emerge wearing a straw hat and donning a scarf over his face.

He waved his walking stick at her. “Quit staring, you ungrateful brat!”

Kakashi smirked at the sight of her leaning her head back to laugh.

.

.

The area they were in, referred to as Kawa Town, consisted of remarkably tall buildings and particularly smog-filled air. A river ran along the border, separating Tea Country from the duo's homeland; it was obviously quite polluted. Identifying Kawaguchi's headquarters was simple: it was the solitary mansion along the peninsula.

Sakura strode through the crickety doors of an inn and approached the man at the desk. “Two rooms, please,” she declared.

The fellow held up a finger, alerting her that he was busy. His nose was buried in a book, one whose bright orange jacket was all-too familiar. Finally, he glanced up and absolutely gaped at the sight of his customer. A smile sleazed across his face then, as he set the novel down and leaned an elbow on the counter. “My, my, has anyone ever told you you've got such green eyes?”

Sakura offered her most innocent of expressions. “ _What_? I have _eyes_?” she gasped in mock surprise. “I bet if you had eyes you’d see that you’ve got a pair of very weary travelers looking to rest. Two rooms, please,” she repeated.

Kakashi masked his laugh with a cough.

The man—Ryuu—scowled at her and didn't bother breaking eye-contact as he responded, “There's only one room available. Here.” He handed her a key attached to a wooden panel. “Room 208. All yours, miss.”

“Is it two beds, at least?”

“No.”

“Can I request an extra cot—?”

Ryuu shook his head, looking utterly bothered. “Nope, all out, sorry. Do you want it or not?” heimplored, obviously raised with neither patience nor tact.

“ _Fine_ ,” Sakura ground out, snatching the key from his outstretched hand and slapping money onto the counter. “Come on, grandpa,” she called towards Kakashi who wobbled behind her, relying quite heavily on his walking stick.

Ryuu rolled his eyes at the inn's newest guests, grumbling about what he'd like to do to tame a girl like that, when a rather blunt object smacked him in the back of the head, forcing him to face-plant onto the countertop. When he looked around for the culprit, he only caught a ratty cloak disappearing up the flight of stairs.

The room itself mirrored the state of the staff: sleazy, lazy, and offensive. A single bed, drawers, and closet were the only occupants. Sakura didn't even want to risk peeking into the bathroom. The walls were dirty, the paint peeling, and the ceiling fan didn't work. The woman sighed and trudged in, dropping her pack on the floor as she found a spot on the foot of the bed. “Let's just make quick work of this so we can get out of here,” she declared, glancing over at her partner who was discarding his cloak.

“I don't imagine this will take very long,” Kakashi mused, resting his trusty cane against the wall. He pulled out the mission scroll to review their objectives. “The only question is how we're to get inside the mansion in the first place.” A rather distinct _ahem_ drew his eyes to the lovely cotton candy-haired woman on the bed who was giving him that grin of hers—the one he could never tear his gaze from.

Crossing one leg over the other, Sakura leaned back on her elbow, trailing her free hand up her thigh. “Seduction, of course.”

Kakashi allowed himself to watch her fingers trace the curve of her thigh, dipping over the swell of her hips and into the valley of her waist, before clearing his throat and returning his gaze to the scroll. “Hmm...” he answered, disinterested. The Copy-Nin shifted to recline against the wall and pretended to be intensely reading the mission scroll, demanding the flashes of flesh on flesh, tangled pink strands, and strangled moans to remain buried deep, _deep_ in his mind.

“You don't think I can do it?” came the young woman's retort and Kakashi opted to ignore her. His single dark eye read the words on the scroll rather intensely—at least, until the sound of bed springs and light footsteps let him know that the object of his very, _very_ dirty thoughts was approaching. He intensified his concentration on the scroll. It was to no avail, however, as Kakashi felt his personal space invaded. He lowered the scroll and stared straight into Sakura's blank, unreadable face. She inched nearer, toes touching his. “Admit it,” the medic whispered, “you don't think I can do it.”

Kakashi fought to keep his voice even despite his incredibly parched throat. “I think you can do anything you set your mind to,” he answered dismissively, ever the proud mentor and supportive friend.

“Is that so?” Sakura hummed, quite interested in his mask, or rather, the way his mouth moved beneath it. Her fingers just barely brushed up his tunic, the pads leaving trails of fire along his torso, before she pressed them lightly along the edge of his jaw. “It's funny, ever since I was a little girl I've wondered at what you could be hiding behind this mask,” the young woman said, more to herself than to the very tense Copy-Nin before her. “I always imagined you had giant lips, buck teeth—or no teeth! That'd be hilarious. Or maybe a hairy mole. But do you know what I think now?”

Kakashi parted his lips to speak, but she stole his voice as her fingers ghosted over his bottom lip.

“I think you have absolutely nothing to hide,” Sakura confessed, “I think that what started as a game for some pesky little twelve-year-olds became something like an obsession. And I'm not really sure what I would do if I saw underneath the _underneath_.” Her breath fanned across his chin. “But I've always wondered. What do you think would happen, Kakashi?”

The Copy-Nin watched her mouth move and reveled in the way his name was almost a prayer on her lips. He caught her wrist, the warmth from the contact drew both their attention to it. Without letting her go, Kakashi leaned closer, pressing his free hand into the wall behind him to refrain from gathering the infuriatingly tempting young medic against him. “Do you really want to end the game?” His voice was thick and hoarse and the way Sakura's eyes widened gave him some sort of satisfaction. “I think that you don't because it keeps us close. I think you enjoy wondering and imagining and maybe even fantasizing,” he smirked beneath the mask, noting the redness creeping into the medic's cheeks. “And I think reality would never be able to live up to your imagination.”

Sakura's breath hitched at his proximity, at the way his single dark eye saw directly into her core. His touch was gentle, but his hands were rough, and she found the disparity to be quite pleasant. “I don't think I could ever be disappointed with you,” she confessed.

Kakashi's grip tightened just a fraction before he dropped her wrist and replaced his back firmly against the wall behind him. “Are you trying to seduce me, Sakura?” he asked quite plainly, at which the young woman's face broke into a Cheshire Grin.

“Ah! I thought I had you!” she laughed, tilting her head to the side. “You knew the whole time, didn't you?”

The man internalized a string of expletives and instead responded with a chuckle. “Can't fool me,” he said, scratching the back of his head.

Sakura shook her head as she returned to the bed and fell back onto the mattress, staring up at the useless ceiling fan. “Well I obviously can't seduce anyone if I can't entice an old man. We can just do our covert thing and be in and out in a night,” she suggested lazily, trying not to think about how dirty the sheets probably were.

Her partner coughed in agreement, ignoring the desire to let her know that she was more than capable of enticing anybody.

.

.

Getting onto private property was nothing new to the duo; they slinked under the cover of night, donned in dark garments. A dark beanie hid both noticeable heads of hair, leaving only diligent eyes exposed to the moonlight. Kakashi led the way, as per usual, checking and double checking the chakra signatures in the area before deciding to use a burst of his own to aid in scaling the far wall of the mansion. He knew Tea Country was not a shinobi territory, but it was never clear who hired shinobi to do their dirty work. So far, he didn't notice any particular power present—save for the chakra emanating from his partner.

As they paused on a ledge to listen near a closed window, they met eyes. It was easy to communicate without speaking; they had been doing it for years. Despite being apart for nearly half a decade, their chemistry was undeniable. Sakura crept further away from Kakashi to peer into a different, open window. The light from the room outlined her features as she peered in just enough to see someone rummaging through the bookshelves. Without turning around, she signalled to her commander: just a maid.

Kakashi lifted his slanted bandana, allowing the Sharingan to swirl into place, to peer into the dark window he stood watch over. Empty. He fixed the cloth back over his scarred eye and clicked his tongue once to alert his subordinate. She lifted two fingers in the air and jerked them straight ahead, before tapping on her window pane to draw the maid nearer. 

The woman spun around in the room, eyes searching, before wandering towards the window. There was a smudge across the glass and she scowled—hadn't she _just_ cleaned that? The maid bounced over to the sill, only to be greeted by a swift hand at the base of her neck. Sakura caught her before she could collapse and slid through the open pane, tying up the bystander and keeping her in a closet for safe measure. Sakura moved across the width of the room and peered into the hall. There appeared to be one or two maids bustling around. It wouldn't be difficult to elude them, but it would certainly be a nuisance if there were more. Most people would be in bed at 1 in the morning, after all. When the coast was clear, she shut off the lights.

Kakashi waited for the light to flick off before following suit. He dropped onto the open sill and very nearly fell right back out as he bumped against Sakura. She grabbed onto his shoulders to steady him and even under the cover of night he could _see_ the amusement in her eyes. He glared. What the hell was she doing standing so near to the window like that, anyhow? She knew he was going to follow after her!

“Careful there,” she whispered, the grin in her voice. Perhaps her hold on him lasted a second too long, because suddenly she blinked and dropped her hands. “There are a few maids on this floor—probably every floor,” Sakura reasoned. “But I don't sense any shinobi.”

Kakashi didn't either. He nodded and strode to the door. It would be easy to cast a genjutsu to hide Sakura and himself as they explored the compound, but the chakra from it would alert potential enemies. No, better to play it safe and simply remain in the shadows—at least until they were certain no other shinobi were around.

He motioned for Sakura to remain close and she appeared behind him at once, like a shadow. Together, they emerged from the study and wandered down the hall, making certain to avoid the maids wandering around as they tidied up the rooms. A staircase led them to the next floor down and they crept along the steps, foot-falls light and undetectable.

Kakashi made a mental map of the facility as they explored the dark mansion. Its décor was gaudy to say the least; paintings in extravagant frames adorned the walls, each flanked by wrought-iron sconces. For a man who oversaw what appeared to be Tea Country's own Industrial town, Kawaguchi Sato certainly loved the lavish extravagance of old.

It didn't appear as though Kawaguchi was expecting any visitors to be snooping about his affairs; the mansion was decisively empty of guards. Perhaps the businessman didn't have as many enemies as someone in his position should? _Or he took care of them all_ , Kakashi wondered. Only when he felt a strange absence behind him did the Jounin glance over his shoulder to see nothing but darkness. He knew better than to panic, and instead retraced his steps.

Sakura was staring at a painting on the wall. There was nothing particularly remarkable about it—it was a bowl of fruit sitting on a table. Even so, the medic stared at it as if deciphering a secret message. Kakashi nudged her to keep moving, but she held her ground. “There's something off about this,” she whispered, near enough to breathe the words against his ear. “Just look at it. It's the only painting we've come across so far that wasn't of something grand. It's a bowl of fruit. It's frame isn't even that ornate.”

Kakashi was about to tell her that sometimes a bowl of fruit was just a bowl of fruit when a door creaking open alerted them both and he grabbed her arm, tugging her against him as they all but melted into the nearest room, movements so silent that it seemed as though they moved _through_ the shut door. 

It was apparent that they had entered a bedroom—luckily the occupant was sound asleep. Sakura allowed her forehead to rest against Kakashi's chin at her relief. When no sound followed the earlier creak, they left the room just as swiftly and silently as they had entered. Once again, Sakura paused at the painting.

She picked the frame off the wall, only to realize it was on a hinge and behind it sat a small padlock safe. Her triumphant gaze Kakashi's way was enough to irritate the Copy-Nin. Pulling out a stethoscope, the medic set to listening to the clicks of the lock, missing the combination the first few times. Kakashi meandered down the hall to keep watch as she did her work. Then the woman popped up beside him, a small silver key glinting in her palm. Whatever it was for, it was obviously something top-secret.

The team found their way to the first floor of the compound, having inspected every inch of the top two, along with the left and right wings. Their exploration served little purpose but to count the number of bathrooms Kawaguchi had, and they were about ready to call it a night and report that the base of operations was not in is home when Kakashi felt a creak beneath his step. He glanced down at the tile beneath his feet—the sound was precisely what he had heard earlier that night. How could tile possibly make that sound?

Sakura lifted two fingers to her mouth—“ _Kai._ ”—and dispelled the genjutsu to reveal a wooden trap door with a small silver lock. They exchanged glances.

The key fit perfectly and, one by one, they disappeared down the passage way. Kakashi made sure to replace the genjutsu before continuing on. _Now_ they were getting somewhere. The basement was just as dark as the rest of the mansion, but it was bare of any decorations. Torches flickered along the corridor. A conversation floated down the stone walls and the Jounin tensed.

“She is from the Yoshiro family,” one voice declared arrogantly. He sounded young and with far too much authority in his demeanor.

A second voice, far older but with all the pomp as the previous speaker—“She is lovely, certainly. Is she pure?”

“You know all my girls are.”

Sakura's hand fisted at her side and she took a single feral step towards the far room, when an arm swung around her waist to hold her back. Kakashi's mouth was at her ear before she could his a protest. “We're here to gather information,” he iterated firmly, only releasing her when he was certain she would comply. “The girls aren't here, we need to find them first.” The woman scowled, but understood. “Don't worry, he'll get what's coming to him,” Kakashi added. “Let's go.”

They left without a trace as to their entrance or presence at all.

.

.

“So we have our proof,” Tsunade said sternly, regarding the Jounin before her with her unwavering copper gaze. “I expect your mission reports on my desk first thing in the morning,” she ordered crisply, “You are dismissed.”

“Shishou, what's the next step? We know Kawaguchi is kidnapping those girls and it seems as though he's running a brothel somewhere. Or worse,” Sakura implored, staring down her mentor. “We have to act soon. Who knows what's happening to these girls—”

The Hokage, hands steepled before her, fixed her eyes on her apprentice. “Sakura,” she barked, immediately silencing the younger medic. “We will take care of it. Don't worry. Now go get some sleep you look like a wreck.”

Sakura scowled but nodded her reverence before leaving the office.

Kakashi followed her out. “She's right, you know,” he said as they walked down the hall to the elevator. “You _do_ look like a wreck.”

“Maybe it's because we traveled all night to return home,” the young woman groused, giving her counterpart a ferocious glare that was far too similar to Tsunade's for Kakashi's liking. “Besides, you don't look so hot yourself,” she admonished.

The Copy-Nin shrugged, fitting his hands into his pockets. “I don't particularly have a need to look otherwise,” he said cheerfully. “The only women I hang around have all seen me at my very worst.”

“You'll never find a nice girl to settle down with you with that attitude,” Sakura commented wryly as the elevator doors parted.

Kakashi hummed in response, stepping into the small space, and leaned his head back along the cool metal wall. “What do I need one of those for? I've got my hang-over healer. What more is there?” He didn't miss the way Sakura grinned and he wondered what it was about his response that prompted it.

“One day I won't be around to help you endure those next mornings,” the medic said playfully, “and then you'll wish you had found yourself a nice lady to take care of you.”

The lift descended and, just as the doors opened to reveal the hospital lobby, Kakashi inclined his head in her direction, single lazy eye unreadable. “You give all the care I need,” he said, before leaving her alone in the elevator. “Later, Sakura.”

.

.

Naruto returned from his week long mission three days early and Sakura set to planning four consecutive parties for their favorite Jounin teacher. Nevermind that Kakashi quite vehemently insisted that he had been _joking_ and that he really didn't need four parties. But the persistent medic waved her hand and all but threatened him to show up and enjoy it. So when the first evening came to celebrate his rather belated thirty-third birthday, he sighed before stepping foot into the admittedly large and spruced up abode of one—Umino Iruka.

There were balloons and streamers— _Does Sakura think I'm five?_ —and of course his close friends and cake and drinks to go around. He enjoyed himself for the most part, that was until Anko got quite rowdy and all but threw herself at him. He deflected her with an easy side-step and inadvertently sent her into Iruka's surprised arms.

When the host and the snake woman mysteriously disappeared, Sakura declared that it was time to shuffle on out and that she'd better see them all the following evening for Kakashi's _thirty-fourth_ party.

She hung behind to help clean up Iruka's living room a bit, doing her best to ignore the rather amorous sounds emerging from the bedroom.

“That was fun,” Kakashi voiced as he held out a giant garbage bag for her to stuff the streamers into.

The young woman smiled brightly, whatever makeup she wore for the evening smudging just barely beneath her eyes. “I'm glad,” she answered, “a part of me thought you might not even come.” She reached across the coffee table to stack cake-smeared paper plates.

“A part of me really didn't want to,” the Copy-Nin confessed as she dropped the plates into the garbage bag. “But it was bearable. Until Anko.”

Sakura snorted, straightening up and fixing the birthday celebrant a look of disbelief. “I'm sorry about that okay? I thought you might want to get laid on your birthday.”

“It's not my birthday,” the man deadpanned.

“Details, details,” Sakura said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“And even if I _wanted_ to get _laid_ , I could find a willing partner myself, thanks,” he sniffed.

The medic laughed, picking up plastic forks and party hats—yes there were party hats. “Oh, I'm sure, with all your charm and good-looks,” and she gestured to his mask, “that you would have no problem with that whatsoever.” She turned to pull the couches back to their original set up.

And then he was behind her, standing so near she felt the front of his vest against her biceps. “I assure you, _Sakura_ , it's not that hard.” Something in his voice had changed, the sake was seeping through, the huskiness from an evening of drinking, and the _intent_. She stiffened. “Let me get that for you,” he continued, leaning forward and grabbing the backrest of the sofa to give it a swift tug. The movement trapped her between the piece of furniture and Kakashi's arms. “Anything else I can help you with?” he asked.

Sakura, unmoving, felt her fingers press into the fabric of the couch. There was something going on here and she wasn't quite sure what to make of it. His arms flanked her and though she could easily move away, she didn't—something made her stay. Slowly, the medic turned around to face him. The look in his gray eye repeated his earlier prompt. _Was_ there anything else he could help her with?

The rhythmic thud-thud-thud from the far room coupled with cries of sheer pleasure made something thicken around them, and Sakura allowed her gaze to drop from his single visible eyes to his mask. “No, I—I think we can probably leave Iruka and Anko to their privacy,” she whispered with little interest in her own response.

Kakashi didn't move and Sakura didn't mind.

A woman's moans met his ears and he briefly entertained the idea of what Sakura would sound like. What Sakura would taste like. Sake, perhaps? As that was the drink of the evening. Genma had insisted she was a vixen and he so sorely wanted to find out if it was true.

The front door burst open and Kakashi stepped away from her, hands in his pockets.

“Sakura-chan! I felt so bad leaving you behind with this mess—oh, Kakashi-sensei!”

“Yo,” the Copy-Nin greeted, without a care in the world.

Sakura greeted the intruder with a nervous smile. “Thanks for coming back to help, Naruto, but everything's clean now.” She pointedly avoided looking over at her former mentor who had found a remarkably interesting spot on the roof to stare at. “We should probably all go now,” the young woman declared, “and leave Iruka to his privacy.”

Naruto smirked at the implication. “They're going at it like rabbits, huh?”

Sakura promptly smacked him over the head.

.

.


	4. Chapter 4

.

.

* * *

**Addiction**

—

His thirty-fourth party went much in the way as his thirty-third one did, that was: hosted at a friend’s home. It was based on nostalgia, wherein people got far too drunk and told stories of Kakashi’s legendary accomplishments. When it was Genma’s turn, he stood on the couch, hand braced on the silver-haired man’s head for balance (Kakashi suspected this was to announce him and not at all because Genma was that inebriated), and proceeded to regale the crowd with what (Genma firmly believed) was Copy-Nin’s greatest conquest.

“Now, this feat was one for the books, eh, Hatake?” The man teased with something akin to admiration on his face. “Her name—” and Genma collapsed then, knee buckling under the impact of his friend’s none-too-gentle fist. “What the hell, Hatake?”

“Sorry,” Kakashi offered with that eye-crinkling grin. “There was a bee.”

Before his friend could retaliate, the lights went out, and all the slightly sauced shinobi tensed. Soft flames drew their eyes like moths to the kitchen, from which a cake emerged.

A cake that was in the hands of the—and he could admit this to himself, in the dark—stunning, pink-haired young woman who made herself a nice little niche in his mind. 

Neither person addressed what was on the cusp of happening the day before; it was that lingering unsaid curtain that strangled him. She behaved as she normally would, having greeted him casually that day and yet...

Her smile was evident in the candles’ light and as she neared, the Copy-Nin couldn’t help but wonder if he was caught in a genjutsu. He couldn’t tear his eyes away—not from her ensaffroned features, not from the sunset hues of her hair, not from the way her eyes focused on him and caught the candles in a way that made the green flicker like fireflies. 

Even sound was muted in her presence; reality fell away. 

When she moved, it was as if in slow motion.

 _Must be genjutsu_.

He could dismiss it; he could do it so fast that no one would even notice he moved.

But…

She gave him that smile and it was free of ire and rage, filled only with...what was that on her face? Admiration? Even as she set the cake down on the coffee table, kneeling across from him, even as Kakashi leaned forward to humor his comrades and blow out the candles, he knew the look in that young medic’s eye was something more. Something that both terrified and drew him in. And he didn’t want to cast it away with a simple _Kai._

It was his birthday after all, he could relish in it. 

How many people were looking at him? How many were merely groping in the dark? Were his friends otherwise engaged, too drunk or distracted to note the silence that befell him? Kakashi wondered if his thoughts were evident in his single eye. Could they read his hesitation, his growing attachment, to this pink-haired, bright-eyed kunoichi?

When he blew out the candle, refusing to close his visible eye (wanting instead to breathe in the image of her, wanting to ingrain it in his mind) he saw the expression on her face shift in recognition.

_She knew._

.

.

A week later and _still_ the Copy-Nin couldn’t seem to dismiss it. When he closed his eyes, he saw her face, glowing gently in his mind like soft gems under the light of the setting sun.

_Soft gems? Glowing?_

Kakashi glared at the ceiling.

 _Fuck_.

He hadn’t seen her since the party, which could only be construed as a blessing in disguise. Sakura was called away on a medical mission to aid a neighboring village, so his remaining two birthday events were put on hold. 

Her absence gave him time to think about just _what_ was going on. In the privacy of his home he could admit to himself that Haruno Sakura had grown in alarming grace. She had beauty in leaps and ferocity in bounds. She was skilled and admired, by shinobi and civilians alike, her accomplishments notorious among Hidden Villages. On paper she was the ideal woman.

_And in real life?_

She was too...too what? Kakashi frowned, unable to come up with a single viable reason he should not pursue her. Pursue her? The man scoffed at the thought, sitting up on his bed and raking a frustrated hand through his hair. As if pursuing her was ever a possibility! That was laughable. The bond he and Sakura shared went beyond mere attraction—and he knew for a fact that she was attracted to him, he’d been around enough women to see it. She didn’t even try to hide it!

Some kunoichi.

Maybe she didn’t want to hide it?

Well that’s ridiculous, why wouldn’t she hide it?

 _Because she’s not embarrassed or ashamed. Because she_ wants _you to know._

An aggravated growl escaped him then, his mind going round and round, entertaining various avenues and sordid fantasies of what his next steps might lead to. 

It was clear as day what he had to do.

.

.

“You want...a vacation.” The Hokage studied him from steepled hands, dark eyes assessing.

Kakashi stood, hands in his pockets, as collected as ever when he answered—“Aa.”

Even so, Tsunade could see the fatigue in his visible eye, the tension in his shoulders. He hadn’t been sleeping. “Hatake, you’re on a three month vacation right now,” she pointed out with more patience than the jounin had anticipated.

The man just shrugged. “Stuck in the village is not a vacation.”

“You seemed eager enough when I suggested three months off duty.” Tsunade paused, making a show of studying his posture, then grinned. It was one of those slow, sly grins that suggested she was up to something. “What’s got you so wound up?”

Kakashi shifted, recognizing the red flag but unsure what to make of it. “I just want a change of scenery,” was his flippant—overly flippant—reply.

Tsunade’s chocolate gaze saw right through him. “Fine. You may have a three day leave. Might I suggest Hill Country? Some geyser hot springs could do wonders for you.”

.

.

“Hill Country,” his friend deadpanned, the senbon between his lips bouncing with the syllables. “Did the Hokage suggest this?”

“She did, but it sounded good,” Kakashi affirmed, shouldering his pack. A part of him wondered if he should pry into why Genma assumed Hill Country was the Godaime’s idea, but decided not to pull at the thread. An undone tapestry and tangled string was the last thing he wanted at his feet. “I’ll be back in three days.” 

When he glanced at Genma, he was met with a calculating gaze. The brunet shrugged, pushing off the railing and waving his friend through the gates. “The hot springs’ll be good for you, you’re looking haggard lately.”

.

.

Hill Country was beautiful, if vast mountains, lush forests, and sparkling lakes and rivers were your thing. 

It took a few hours with chakra assistance to get there, and someone who was less consumed by his thoughts might have even enjoyed the scenery on the way, but his mind was too consumed by the events of the morning following his second celebration—

Iruka had found him at Obito’s grave. “Telling him all about your parties?”

Kakashi’s single dark eye swept to the side, closing in greeting. “Why would I do a thing like that? Might make him jealous.”

The Academy Teacher chuckled, crouching down by his friend. The sun just barely rose over the mountains, the sharp outline of golden rays split the sky. Iruka eyed his comrade. “There won’t be one today,” he revealed, studying Kakashi’s reaction.

A sound between a scoff and a chuckle escaped the Copy-Nin. “I told Sakura surprise parties wouldn’t work after the celebrant already knows about it, no matter how much back-pedaling—“

“Surprise party—?” Iruka cut in, amused. “No, Hatake, the party’s been postponed.”

“Postponed,” Kakashi repeated, glancing at his friend.

“Aa. Sakura was sent on a mission sometime last night—urgent.”

Silence.

“You alright?”

The silver-haired jounin blinked. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Silence.

“She’ll be fine, Hatake. Sakura’s grown a lot—”

“I know,” Kakashi snapped, then turned to face his comrade. “Seems everyone knows.”

Iruka grinned. “Are you _upset_ about not having your party?” Kakashi managed to appear as offended as he could with just his single eye showing, but the Academy Teacher’s grin only widened into a smile. “You _are_.”

“I’m not upset.”

Iruka shook his head, straightening from his crouched position. “Sure, sure,” he said clasping his hands above his head and stretching out his shoulders. The whole thing felt like forced nonchalance and Kakashi’s eye narrowed at his friend’s antics. “If I was expecting a party on my behalf thrown by Sakura only to have it cancelled, I’d be upset.”

Kakashi remained at the memorial long after Iruka took his leave and could have sworn he heard his old teammate’s mocking laughter. _He wasn’t upset, dammit!_

—The gates of Hill Country came into view. Cherry blossom trees flanked the entrance and the jounin internally flinched. Did everything _have_ to remind him of her? “You could be a little more subtle, Universe,” Kakashi muttered as he passed beneath the arch.

.

.

The hot spring was exactly what he needed; steam hovered and rose into the air and the Copy-nin sunk deeper into the waters, the warm stones releasing the tension he hadn’t been aware he was carrying in his shoulders. A nearby trickling waterfall was his only companion as he reclined along the edge, arms stretched on either side of him. He had forgone his mask and headband, sinking beneath the water so that his chin disappeared beneath the surface. 

Deep, steadying breaths filled his lungs with steam and when he exhaled it was as if he was expelling all his worries with it. When was the last time he had taken a soak? Years. Since before he left for that four year long stint away from his village.

Too long.

The sounds of sloshing water did well to quell thoughts of a certain pastel-haired medic and Kakashi managed to fully relax for the first time in a week. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back—

“It’s the least we can do, Haruno-san.”

And instantly sat up. Did he hear that right? Perhaps the water muddled the words?

“Aiya, I told you—Sakura is fine. And please, I insist on paying for this—”

“Sakura-san, please. You’ve helped our sick, helped our village, let me repay you somehow.”

Kakashi sat as if he was bathing with electric eels. On the other side of the little waterfall, the conversation went on and there was absolutely no mistaking that voice. He knew that voice. It haunted him, hovering just in the vestiges of his mind, ever-present. He wasted an entire day thinking it was a genjutsu and attempted to break it, even going to Kurenai (bless her heart, she didn’t speak of the embarrassing situation to anyone) to ask for her expert opinion. She had looked at him as if he had grown a second head before declaring that he was definitely not under a genjutsu and did he ever have _that talk_ with his dad when he was younger?

“We’ll definitely miss having you here, Sakura-san.”

The Copy-nin pressed a hand to his temple, massaging the migraine that was sure to form. Tsunade had _suggested_ this place—what exactly was she playing it? Come to think of it, Genma didn’t do much to discourage him. He shook his head, easing out of the water. He couldn’t not think of Sakura when she was _right on the other side of that little waterfall_ —

“I’ll definitely come back soon, these springs are amazing.” That was Sakura’s voice, gentle and carefree. “But I’ve got some things planned that I should really get back to.”

“Oh, those birthday parties for that shinobi?”

What? Was that about him? Had she talked about him?

“Well, other things, too,” Sakura replied.

She sounded like she was blushing. Was she blushing?

“You’re turning red, Sakura-san.”

“It’s the hot spring, Aiya.” Silence, then: “It _is_!”

Kakashi, despite his better judgement, made his way towards the waterfall. Civilians wouldn’t be able to see through it, but his keen eyesight could make out a pair of blurs in the women’s section of the springs. One of the blurry figures had petal-pink hair. He should go. He shouldn’t eavesdrop. What would Sakura say if she found out? What would anyone say? He’d never live it down. And besides, that just wasn’t the kind of guy he was! 

“I wish I had a special person to plan parties for.”

Sakura, defensive. “It’s not like that.”

He should go. He should _really_ go—

“If you say so.” The girl, Aiya answered. He should _really_ go, and he made a move to exit just as the one called Aiya went on to say “But tell me, is he cute?”

So he paused.

Strained ears, heart thumping, then—

A squeal and girlish giggles. Did she answer? What did she say? Had she nodded? Did she shake her head? Kakashi didn’t _understand_ girlish giggles, dammit! Mentally, he reviewed his catalogue of memories regarding the pink-haired woman and her array of girlish sounds (nevermind that they all came from a time in her life that she had out-grown). But his thoughts meandered down a less innocent path, one where gleeful squeals matured into comfortable laughter, his name falling casually from her lips, and what it might sound like being hoarsely yelled as she scratched her nails along his back—

“Hey!” Someone entered the men’s pool and Kakashi moved away from the waterfall with a graceful shove. “What are you doing, perv! That’s the women’s section!” 

Fuck, he had been noticed. “Eh? Oh, I was just sitting by the falls—“ He spoke before realizing that he might be heard and instantly clamped shut, lifting his palms in false surrender. To no avail.

From the other side came splash, splash, splash, followed by an incredulous: “ _Kakashi?_ ”

When he turned, a soaking wet Haruno Sakura clad only in a towel greeted his vision. He made the mistake of opening both his eyes in surprise (or fear?) and the Sharingan spun into use, taking in every aspect of her appearance: the droplets of water clinging to her shoulders, the stray one that traced along the length of her neck, following the line of her clavicle, the darker shade of her hair, the way her wet eyelashes spiked together—he promptly shut that eye.

“Sakura, I didn’t know you’d be here. Though, I don’t think you were supposed to go through that waterfall…”

“What are you doing here?” She scowled, hand tightening on her towel, though the fact that it was drenched did nothing to hide her figure. There was a look on her face, something he hadn’t seen before. It was most curious, the way her mouth was set in a firm line as if withholding whatever it was she wanted to spit out. He had never known Sakura to be one to silence her convictions.

Kakashi forced his one-eyed gaze to remain on her face. “Ne, Tsunade-sama granted me a vacation.”

“A vacation.”

“Aa.”

“From your three month vacation.”

“...Aa.”

She parted her lips to speak when a second voice piped up from just behind the kunoichi. “Ne, Sakura-san. Is this him? He _is_ cute.”

.

.

“I’m sorry we got kicked out, Sakura-san.”

The medic offered her companion a bright, reassuring smile. “Aiya, you don’t need to apologize! It wasn’t your fault.”

Kakashi could hear the blame in her words and internally scoffed, imagining her glaring at his back as he walked ahead of them. It wasn’t _his_ fault! He hadn’t done anything wrong! She was the one who crossed the barrier into the men’s section!

Aiya chuckled. “You’re right. It’s yours,” she teased. 

The Copy-Nin decided he quite liked this Aiya.

“I’ll see you soon?” the girl went on.

“Aa, next time I’m here I’ll let you know.”

Retreating footsteps. Kakashi continued his leisure pace. Then heavier, stomping, angry footsteps. He quickened his pace just slightly.

“Kakashi.” A hand caught the sleeve of his shirt.

Ah, dammit. The silver-haired jounin paused mid-step and glanced over his shoulder at the subject of his most recent thoughts. “Sakura.” He expected her ire, her glare, maybe a solid punch. What he didn’t expect was her gaze to be trained, almost distantly, on his mask. After a moment’s silence, he shifted. “Sakura?”

The young woman blinked and shook her head, hand dropping from his sleeve. “What are you doing here?” she asked, hooking her thumbs into the straps of her backpack.

“Like I said, I needed a—”

“I mean _here_. Why are you _here_.” She seemed slightly irate, though it didn’t appear to have anything to do with the hot spring (not that she had a reason to be mad at him! He, afterall, had done _absolutely nothing wrong_ ).

Hatake inclined his head, wet hair flopping over his covered eye. “Hot springs sounded nice,” he drawled. 

She frowned. “So you didn’t know I was here.”

“Why would I know you were here?”

Something in her eyes changed, but she blinked it away before he could analyze it. “I don’t know, that’s why I asked,” she said with too much cheer. “Have you eaten? I packed food to have a picnic with Aiya but…”

Kakashi shrugged, hands in pockets. “Lead the way.”

.

.

Sunset, mountain ranges, the sounds of birds, and an assortment of snacks spread out on a blanket. It should have been romantic, or at the very least relaxing, but Kakashi found himself far more tense than he had been the past few days. And it was all because of the pastel-haired kunoichi who wouldn’t take her eyes off him. It occurred to him that she had, in fact, _not seen his face_ before. Until the hot spring. Her eyes remained glued to his exposed mouth as he brought a grape to his parted lips.

Kakashi hesitated then, giving her a look that could be teasing. “Sakura, do I have something on my face?”

She flushed, but rather than turn away in embarrassment, _leaned closer_. The Universe was testing him, he knew it. “No I…” she tilted her head, tucking her drying locks behind an ear. “It’s just. Your face.”

He blinked slowly, waiting for her to go on. When she didn’t, he grinned, enjoying the way her gaze greedily took in the sight. “My face. Is it bothering you? Should I put it away?” the man taunted, lifting his free hand to tug up his mask.

Sakura’s hand was quick as she grabbed his wrist. “No—it’s just. Different. You don’t need to inconvenience yourself.” She let him go.

“It’s no inconvenience,” was his easy reply. He tugged up his mask just in time to hide his amused smirk—she was _pouting_. “Don’t want to distract you.”

The medic huffed. “I wasn’t distracted.” There was no denying the dusting of pink on her forehead as she looked down to rather aggressively grab a rice ball.

Silence perpetuated wherein Sakura pointedly avoided looking at him and Kakashi assessed her closed-off posture. So he was having a bit of a gloat, sue him. He had just received the most concrete information of her views on him that day—she _thought he was cute_. Now, he had suspected this for a while now, but it was all conjecture (with convincing evidence, but conjecture nonetheless.)

Earlier, however, Aiya confirmed that Sakura had, indeed, declared he was cute.

And now? Now she was blushing and bothered by the fact that he had covered up his face. 

Kakashi mentally preened. 

Emboldened by this discovery, he reached out to pluck something from her hair.

Sakura turned at the gesture, and there was simply no mistaking the widening of her eyes as she beheld his mask-less face. Her pupils dilated ever so slightly, her parted lips (prepared with a tirade on her tongue) expelled air, a puff of disbelief.

Time stilled. He could have counted her lashes, connected her array of freckles, could have studied the greenness of her eyes, for all eternity. She was exquisite, the setting sun silhouetting her frame. When the wind blew, it tugged at her hair, at her clothes, and he wondered what she would do if he grabbed her, if he tugged on her clothes himself, if he tangled his hands through her hair. Would she tilt her head back and close her eyes? Would she tackle him for dominance? Would she be rough? Pliant? How would she say his name?

He gathered his thoughts, suppressing them behind a crinkling eye, and brought the rice that had clung to her locks to his mouth. “Seemed like your hair was hungry, too. There was rice in it.”

Just like that, the tension fell apart and Sakura scoffed. “Idiot.”

.

.

They remained on that spot well into the night. The moon was a sliver of a crescent, outshone by the spattering of stars. Laughter filled the air as the duo packed up the supplies. 

“Why would Genma and Tsunade-sama conspire to send you here?” Sakura grinned, stuffing the blanket into her pack.

The silver-haired jounin shrugged, offering her a hand to help her up. “You tell me.” He tugged her to her feet just as she braced herself on his offered hand to stand on her own. The result was a sudden infiltration of personal space.

Kakashi stared at the medic, feeling her breath on his still exposed chin. She instantly took a step back, swinging her pack onto her shoulder. “Your guess is as good as mine,” was her evasive reply. “Anyway, I hope the rest of your vacation is relaxing—“

“Are you going back to Konoha now?”

Sakura arched a brow. “Yes?”

“It’s late.”

“It’s only a few hours away—“

“You should stay here.”

The young woman eyed him then; her scrutiny made him feel remarkably uneasy for some reason he couldn’t quite pin down. “I don’t have a place to stay tonight. My plan was always to return today—”

“Stay with me.” His offer was so nonchalant, so matter-of-fact, that even Kakashi was surprised at how easily it came. “There’s barely any light under this moon. It’s best to travel in the morning. You know your eyes aren’t the best—”

“Excuse me?”

 _No, no, don’t condescend, Hatake, who are you—Hyuuga?_ “Ne, Sakura, you know I didn’t mean it like that. Your eyes are perfect—”

“What?”

 _Fuck, what the hell is wrong with me_. “—tly suited to shinobi activity. But you know as well as I that it’s smarter to wait for morning if there’s no pressing matter to return. And there isn’t, is there?”

Slowly, a smile stretched her lips. Bemused, entertained. Kakashi wasn’t sure if he liked it. “No,” Sakura confirmed, “no pressing matter.”

“So you should stay the night,” the Copy-Nin stated.

She was _grinning_ now. “With you.”

“Aa.” He paused, then lifted his mask to hide his face. “I call the bed.”

He flickered away, missing the medic’s affronted exclamation—“Hatake!’

.

.

She gave him chase through the village, and scowled when she realized he had created clones to lead her astray from the inn’s location. Sakura rolled her eyes but humored him—it felt good to flex her shinobi skills, even if it was just for a game of tag. 

The medic created her own clones, disbanding them to track down each and every single Copy-Nin. She caught up to one, appearing before him just as he was about to reach for the door to a building.

“Not so fast,” she tutted. “It’s only chivalrous to offer a lady the bed, especially if you insist that she stays the night.”

Kakashi arched a brow. “You’re right, but would Naruto offer you the same?”

Sakura scowled. “No, but—”

“You and Naruto are friends.”

“Yes—”

“And you and I...we’re friends.”

“Well yes—”

“So why is it that what is expected of one friend isn’t the same as—”

She stepped forward then, invading his space. “Do you treat me the same as Naruto?” An accusation.

Kakashi hesitated, and it was in that hesitation that the medic pressed even nearer, hands rising to his mask. Her fingers played at the edge of the fabric. “Has Naruto seen your face?” she went on, eyes dropping to the shape of his mouth through the cloth. “If it had been Naruto to run into you—would you offer him to stay the night?”

The silver-haired jounin grasped her wrists. “Sakura.” A question.

She let go of his mask but didn’t back away. “The other night, at Iruka’s…”

Kakashi lowered his head. “What about it?” His voice dropped, visible eye staring intently into the medic’s face. 

“You asked if there was anything else you could do for me.”

“Aa.”

“That wasn’t just about cleaning up.”

She could feel his exhale through the mask, could feel his heartbeat through the palms of his hands. His hold on her wrists was strong, stuck between moving her away or tugging her closer, and Sakura held her breath. 

“I’ll always be here for you, Sakura.” Was he retreating?

She wouldn’t let him. “You know, at the end of a date, a guy usually—”

In one swift movement, he tugged down his mask and kissed her.

If she was surprised, she didn’t show it, hands immediately grabbing his face, fingers threading through the locks at the nape of his neck as she rose onto her toes. His arms wrapped around her form, pressing her into him, taking in everything she had to offer.

Sakura relished in the feel of his lips— _his lips!_ —on hers, the taste of him (remnants of their picnic) on her tongue, the way his still damp locks tangled easily with her fingers as she pulled him down to her. She was acutely aware of each of his fingertips burning through the fabric of her shirt, as they rose up along her back just enough to expose her middle to the cool night air, and then suddenly those fiery fingerprints found her skin there instead, kneading into her waist and the medic sighed into his kiss.

His name slipped out as his mouth left hers, deciding to taste her jaw, her neck, and she wilted in his hold, tugging at his hair—“ _Kakashi_.”

And then he was gone.

Had she not been a kunoichi she would have stumbled. Sakura blinked, confused, flushed, and looked around in confusion before it hit her—

It had been a clone.

.

.

Finding him didn’t take long, not when she released her own clone jutsu and realized one of them managed to find the inn. 

With every step that brought her closer, her nerves spiked. The memory of his heated kisses, the desperate manner that he held her, the feel of his breath on her skin—Sakura took a shaky breath. How much of a clone was the original? 

She stood outside the room, staring at the door, wondering about what had transpired. He knew, he _must_ , his clone’s memories would be returned to him. So then…

“Sakura.”

The medic blinked at the voice from the other side of the door.

“Why don’t you just come in?”

She did, and closed the door behind her, pressing her back against it. Sakura was unable to tear her eyes from the jounin seated on the bed who was staring at her through an unreadable eye. 

Said eye crinkled in greeting. “Looks like I get the bed.”

There was no denying the existence of the tension in the room. 

Kakashi had fully intended to continue where his clone had left off—and silently hated said clone for having that experience, dammit!—but her hesitation outside the door made him second guess everything. She had looked so _wary_ , so unsure. It was a far cry from the medic in his memory—the way she stared up at him ( _his clone_ ) under the moonlight, daring him, challenging him, to make a move. Where was that woman now?

“Kakashi,” she opened, taking a step forward—

“Unless, you’re OK with sharing it?”

—and stopped. Her eyes studied him, he could _feel_ her brain working even from where he sat. And then she grinned. “Aa, but if you hog the covers you’re getting kicked off.”

.

.

Sleep was impossible. He could feel her body heat radiating from her side of the bed, could hear her breathing, smell her scent. It didn’t help that flashes of his clone’s memory constantly filtered through his mind whenever he closed his eyes—

A succumbing sigh, her taut muscle beneath his fingertips, the way she had said his name.

Kakashi stared up at the ceiling.

Yep, there was no denying it now. The Universe was laughing at him. Bent over, slapping its knee, _laughing at him_.

“Can’t sleep?”

The whisper was so soft he almost thought he imagined it, but when he turned his head to the source, he found wide green eyes looking back. “No.”

Sakura shifted so that she fully faced him, her hand tucked beneath her cheek on the pillow. “Me neither.”

Silence.

“We can pretend it never happened, if you want,” she began. “Not that it _did_ , I mean, it was a clone so—”

“You wanted me to kiss you.”

She blinked, taken aback, before propping herself up onto her elbow. “It wasn’t like it took much prompting. Your clone sure made a move quickly.”

“My clone—”

“Is an extension of you,” she finished, prodding a finger at his chest.

Kakashi caught her hand.

Sakura shouldn’t have been alarmed at how similar it felt to his clone’s grip on her wrists, and she tried to set aside thoughts of what happened afterward but it was impossible. She recalled the heat in his gaze, the urgency with which he devoured her mouth, the feel of his lips—she withdrew her hand then, after another moment, lied back down. The hesitation between them was enough to deter her from pressing the matter. Kakashi was not one to act on impulse—his clone was a fluke and Sakura refused to let that disappoint her. She didn’t want a clone, anyway.

 _So what do you want_? her mind whispered.

“I can’t give you what you want,” he said into the darkness.

It wasn’t until he started finally drifting to sleep did she reply: “Scaredy-cat.”

.

.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had fun with this chapter i hope you guys do, too! just three more left guys yeee. i don’t think i will ever get enough of reluctant, grumpy, tempted kakashi.

.

.

* * *

**Affinity**

—

He barely took a single step past the Konoha Gates before Genma appeared, expression suspiciously unreadable. “Hatake! You’re looking...well-rested.”

Kakashi didn’t like the tone in his greeting. “Hot springs will do that,” he mused, continuing on his leisure way. 

The other Jounin chuckled, falling into step with his friend. “Haruno also returned looking rather relaxed.”

“Mm.”

“A day later than she was expected.”

Kakashi’s face was inscrutable, but his muscles tensed. He was well aware that Sakura had delayed her return, claiming the Copy-Nin had issues with his Sharingan in the message she sent to Konoha. “You don’t say…”

“I heard she was also in Hill Country,” Genma wheedled.

“I did see her there,” the silver-haired Jounin conceded, as if it was an after-thought. Even as they walked, he could feel his friend’s gaze. “Is there something you needed, Genma?”

“Do I need a reason to spend time with my dear friend?”

“Tch. No, but I know you, Shiranui. What are you up to?”

Genma let out a too-boisterous laugh, raising his arms to catch his hands behind his head. “I’m offended, Hatake. Maybe I just wanted to greet my comrade upon his return.”

“At seven in the morning.”

“What? I can be up early!”

Kakashi sighed. “You want to tell me about your latest conquest,” he guessed as they approached his apartment. 

“Close,” the brunet Jounin answered with a too-wide smirk.

Kakashi’s foot paused on the top step just before his door. “You want me to tell you about _my_ latest conquest,” he surmised. Genma’s anticipation practically rolled off of him in waves, and Kakashi sighed, opening his door. “After you almost told everyone about that girl from the Iron Country? Yeah right.”

“So there _is_ a conquest to tell me about?” 

The Copy-Nin stepped into his apartment, eye crinkling in amusement. “Later, Genma.”

.

.

For all her professionalism, the young medic found it difficult to reign in her rampant amusement at the Hokage's penetrating gaze. Sakura had known the Sannin for many years—there was no denying that gleam in her dark eyes, the one that said she had quite a lot at stake on _something_. Apparently that something hinged on Sakura's reply to the simple question:

"So, how was Hatake?"

The rose-haired medic blinked, hand dropping her mission report scroll on the Hokage's desk. "Fine," she answered, straightening up. She slid her hands into her pockets, adopting a very Copy-Nin posture that she _knew_ her Shishou wouldn't miss.

Tsunade's eyes narrowed. "Fine," she repeated.

"Aa."

"Don't stand there looking so smug, brat. You know what I'm asking."

At that, Sakura quirked a brow, trying her best to maintain her cool composure. "Tsunade-sama, his eye was straining him so I healed it, that's all."

"He was on vacation, why on Earth would he use his Sharingan?"

"There was an attack."

"An attack."

Why did she say 'attack' like it was code for something else? Before she could clarify, a familiar hawk ANBU appeared at the door.

"Hokage-sama," he acknowledged in his deep timbre. Then, as if just noticing the pink-haired medic, nodded. "Sakura."

Was that amusement she detected in his tone?

The young woman rolled her eyes, turning back to the blonde. "You're busy. Everything is in the mission report, Shishou."

Chocolate eyes watched the young medic disappear.

It was the hawk's voice that brought Tsunade's attention back to the matter at hand: "That bet is _still_ going on?"

.

.

Kakashi’s next party was scheduled for the night of his return, whether he was aware of it or not. Sakura had put Genma in charge of corralling the Copy-Nin to the destination. Amidst the planning, whisperings of the _relationship_ between the medic and silver-haired Jounin captain spread like a disease amongst the Shinobi ranks, one that Sakura, in all her medic expertise, _allowed_ to incubate. 

There was talk of the duo meeting in Hill Country, and of course her delayed return was unexpected—top that with the fact that she quoted him as her reason for the delay, and the bundle of sticks combusted on their own. If she could trust Konoha to do anything at all, it was to carry away with rumors like wildfire.

Which was why, when Sakura approached the brunet Jounin about her ploy and shoved a pile of fabrics into his arms, Genma offered a slanted smirk. “So, did he get lucky or what?”

Rather than the usual punch in the arm or flirtatious deflection, the Hokage’s Apprentice winked, plucking the senbon from his lips—“Jealous?”—and promptly tossed the needle in a fluid motion, embedding it into a tree just behind the male Jounin. “The banner should hang there. Thanks for the help!”

.

.

He had been expecting some sort of frivolous affair, one with too much sugar and color and everything that just screamed ‘Sakura.’ He had _not_ been expecting his _dear friend_ to be knocking on his door, challenging him to a spar.

Kakashi took one look at the expectant grin on Genma’s face before moving to shut the door on him—“No.”

But of course, Genma wouldn’t be Genma if he didn’t annoy the living shit out of the Copy-Nin and so he shoved the barricade ajar, waltzing into Kakashi’s apartment.

“Please, come in, make yourself at home,” the silver-haired man drawled, turning around to watch as Genma promptly did just that, stepping out of his shoes and flopping onto the couch. 

“Fine, I’ll just sit here and read this—” he reached for the nearest book on the table, a familiar orange cover, and settled into his seat. “This is good bonding too, ne?” And he proceeded to read a decidedly lascivious portion of _Icha Icha_ aloud.

Needless to say, the duo were soon found strolling along the streets of Konoha on their way to the Training Grounds.

“C’mon, Hatake, don’t be such a wet blanket. This’ll be fun. I’ve been working on some new techniques.”

A grin lifted Kakashi’s mouth despite his irritation. “Sure, sure.” 

The moment he stepped onto Training Ground 3, he sensed it. Kakashi dropped his head to the side, shooting his comrade a disinterested glare. “You couldn’t try better than this?” He groused, easily dismissing the genjutsu with a simple _Kai_. “Shiranui, that’s insulting—”

And then a blur of red and pink charged at him.

Hatake caught the edge of her knuckles, having moved just in time to avoid the brunt force of her punch. He did, however, get sent flying through the air, twisting into a graceful landing just in front of a colorful banner and a small gathering of his closest friends that were hidden with the earlier genjutsu. The group grinned—“Happy 35th—!” 

Kakashi didn’t have time to react to the sentiment. A familiar chakra spiked behind him and he grabbed the coming wrist, spinning around so as to send her flying from where she came.

Sakura skidded to a halt, smirking.

The Copy-Nin blinked before settling into a defensive stance. The intent was clear in her viridian eyes. So this was to be his birthday party? He grinned. “Sakura. Is this how you greet your former sensei?”

“What’s the matter, old man, can’t take it?”

There was a distinctly salacious tone in her words that made his stomach twist in anticipation. The way her words floated, taunted, beckoned, reminded him of their night spent together in that Hot Springs town.

> _“Scaredy-cat.” Huffed, like a child._
> 
> _Kakashi allowed his visible eye to find her in the dark, though he remained on his back, facing the ceiling. “And what exactly am I scared of?”_
> 
> _Her response was quiet but firm, given by a confident woman reluctant to shatter the fragile veil of vulnerability the darkness provided. “Don’t insult me. I know you. You know I know you. I know what you’re scared of—it’s the same for me, afterall.”_
> 
> _Loss. Failure. Shame._
> 
> _He didn’t know how to answer, so he didn’t, letting his silence speak volumes._
> 
> _Sakura shifted, leaning up onto her elbow. He closed his eyes, hoping she would get the hint and just go to bed already. But instead her fingers trailed fire through his hair, down his cheek and along the edge of his mask. Her touch lingered on his scarred eye._
> 
> _“Sakura.” His voice was a rumble in his throat and he felt her chakra pulsate at the sound of it. He told himself it wasn’t delicious, told himself her intensity wasn’t pulling at the blood in his veins. “What are you doing.”_
> 
> _He heard rather than saw her grin. “What’s the matter, old man? Can’t take it?”_

Apparently the underlying tension was evident to all as the people behind him whistled and whooped. 

He shrugged a single shoulder, careless, nonchalant, and flash-stepped out of view.

Sakura’s eyes immediately scanned her surroundings: left, right, up, down. She kicked off the ground just as his arm broke through the dirt, grasping at nothing but air. “Your old tricks won’t work on me anymore, _Kakashi-Sensei_ ,” the medic taunted, drawing out kunai and hurling them at his form. One landed, but he disappeared in a puff of smoke, replaced by a log. 

The pastel-haired Jounin stepped onto a tree branch, quickly replacing herself for better cover. When he appeared to attack the decoy, she released a wave of kunai at him. He dodged them all, the clash of metal on metal ringing through the air.

“Ne, Sakura. Is this a spar or a game of tag?”

“Tch, you’re the one who won’t take it seriously—is this a game to you?”

Kakashi scoffed, then shifted his hitai-ate to reveal the Sharingan. “That’s how you want to play then? Fine.”

> _Kakashi opened his eyes, pinning her in place with the Sharingan. Her hand froze at the edge of his scar, fingerprint searing into his skin. “You’re playing a dangerous game here,” he warned, using all of his restraint to remain still. Even as she inched nearer, even as she leaned over him, propped on her elbow, so close that the ends of her petal-pink locks grazed his cheek, he didn’t budge._
> 
> _The young woman hooked a finger beneath his mask. “You think this is a game?”_
> 
> _It was a challenge if he had ever heard one. “Sakura.” A warning, perhaps the last one he was willing to give._

Their fight was as intense, if not more, than what _that_ night promised. They traded blows, not holding back in power or speed. Kakashi may have had the medic beat in the latter, but she more than made up for it in brute strength and strategy. They used their surroundings, setting traps, and traps within traps, in an attempt to direct their opponent to the target spot.

A few times, the Copy-Nin managed to manipulate Sakura right where he wanted her, but she always managed to catch on right in time to evade.

After an action-packed ten minutes, both parties sustained many wounds, neither surrendering.

Sakura charged at him, head on, and he blocked her attack, tensing when she disappeared in a puff of smoke. He felt her chakra coming from above and promptly moved out of the way, tossing a shuriken. Her form poofed into a log. She came from the left then, and he rolled his eyes, making quick work of that replacement with another swiftly tossed shuriken. “You’re not even trying, now,” he declared into the open air, awaiting her next attack.

He realized too late that the most recent Sakura didn’t disappear in a puff of smoke and turned back to see her with a shuriken sticking into her forearm— _Shit_.

He met her fist square in the jaw and went sprawling.

Sakura smirked, removing the metal star from her skin, prepared to deliver a haughty reprimand. But then Kakashi disappeared in smoke. 

In the next breath, the medic felt a kunai pressing into her throat, a strong arm wrapped securely about her torso, trapping her hands at her sides, her back against his front.

“Sakura, you think I don’t know all your tricks?” His teasing was good-natured, but she could _feel_ the warmth from his words, his mask hovering by her ear. “Maybe there’s still a thing or two your former sensei can teach you, ne?”

> _“I’m not some little girl. I know what I want—“_
> 
> _Quicker than her eyes could trace, he grabbed her wrist and tugged her while pushing himself up from the bed. She found herself staring up at the silver-haired Jounin, his hands braced on the head board, his knees flanking her thighs. “What do you want, Sakura,” he growled, wondering at his patience, knowing he was at the precipice of something. Whether that something was good or bad was beyond his grasp. “Tell me what you want.”_
> 
> _“You mean you haven’t looked underneath the underneath?” she whispered before grinding her hips against him._
> 
> _“I want to hear you say it. To see your pretty, little lips tell me exactly what you want,” the Copy-Nin rasped, pressing down on her writhing. The heat of her, the friction of their clothes, sent a thrill up his spine. The fire in her eyes was enough to undo him._
> 
> _“I want you to teach me something new, Kakashi-Sensei.”_
> 
> _Well, fuck._

Perhaps he held her there a beat too long, but it took all of the power in him to release her. When she stepped away, she turned back to him, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Well then, we should find a time for me to learn,” she exhaled, meeting his eyes. The woman before him was unafraid to rise to his bait, unafraid to challenge him, and he wanted more than anything to take her home and teach her everything he knew, and pick up some things from her as well. 

Cheering erupted from their friends—had they been shouting all this time?—and he blinked. 

Just like that the tension dissipated; Sakura’s expression eased, her shoulders relaxed. He lowered his headband over the Sharingan, scratching the back of his head in the process. “If you weren’t so busy at the hospital, then maybe we could train. But you practically live there,” he teased. 

Sakura grinned, pressing a finger just below her left eye. “I wouldn’t put that away just yet, Kakashi.”

.

.

To the Copy-Nin’s dismay, Sakura was only the first opponent in a long series of challenges. Naruto was up after—a battle that very nearly decimated the remains of Training Ground 3 (or what was left of it after Sakura’s many blows), and Anko followed after. It seemed that the majority of the small group of friends that attended were there to fight him. After sparring against Shizune, Guy, and Genma, the Copy-Nin was well and truly spent, reclining by a tree stump, with an amused medic tending to his countless injuries. 

Thankfully, his friends wanted to also spar each other, which allowed him plenty of time to sit and recover, partaking in the cool alcohol and the company of the stunning young medic who could dazzle and terrify in a single breath.

Beer was passed around, which made for interesting battles and even more interesting comments from the watching group. Kakashi grasped his bottle firmly and took a long pull, grunting only when the pastel-haired medic at his side prodded his sore shoulder. 

“Kakashi, would you put your arm down, you lush, I’m trying to heal it!”

He scowled, fixing her a _look_ , but did as she asked, switching hands so that he might continue with his drink. “I don’t believe it’s custom to yell at the birthday boy,” he groused, voice raspy from the numerous battles. His stamina certainly wasn’t what it used to be, and he could feel the depletion of his chakra right down to his bones. 

Sakura snorted. “Don’t be such a baby.”

The moon was high up in the sky, and most of his comrades were singing Konoha songs, many off-key, and some were different songs altogether. Sitting there, head tipped back against the tree stump, Sakura’s cool chakra soothing his wounds, Kakashi decided it was his best birthday yet.

“How is it?” 

He snorted, the sound was trapped against his mask. “ _It?_ ”

Sakura playfully hit his arm. “Your _eye_ ,” she clarified, though he caught the beginnings of a blush across her cheeks.

“You’ll check it no matter what I say,” the man noted, earning a grin from his medic.

He was right, of course, and she lifted his hitai-ate from its slanted position, gently holding a hand against his closed eye. “You’ve over-worked it,” she murmured into the cool night air. 

Kakashi wasn’t listening, however, distracted by the warmth of her chest against his shoulder, her breath on his temple. He allowed his good eye to close, grip tightening on the nearly empty bottle. “Gee, I wonder why.” Another swat, and he chuckled. 

“All the work I did, undone,” Sakura lamented.

“Don’t look at me like that. You’re the one who wanted me to spar.”

“You can’t even see my face, old man,” she snapped, though he could hear her amusement. 

Sakura eased back onto her heels, dropping her hands into her lap. “I thought you might enjoy this kind of celebration more than a party.”

He opened his eyes, studying her with his Sharingan. Every exquisite detail burned in his vision, every strand of moonlit hair, every freckle across her nose, the silvery scar that traced from the base of her neck to her sternum. He remembered kissing her just there, at the junction where her neck met her shoulder, tongue trailing the line of that jagged scar—

“Aa. You know me,” he relented.

Green eyes jumped to meet his gaze. If she was surprised to see his Sharingan, she didn’t show it. Instead she smiled a secret smile. “And don’t you forget it.”

Eventually, everyone dispersed, making their drunken ways to their homes.

Genma offered to take the birthday boy, but Sakura waved him off—“Don’t worry about it. Besides, it looks like Shizune-san might need some help.” Genma was more than happy to aid the Hokage’s Assistant.

“You don’t have to walk me home,” the Copy-Nin muttered, hands in pockets.

They wandered in the moonlight, as they have many times before. 

“I _want_ to walk you home,” Sakura declared. Bold and challenging.

Kakashi wondered when she had become that way, but decided it didn’t matter. He very much liked it. “Is that all you want?”

She wasn’t looking at him, but he could still see the curve of her grin. “Shut up, Hatake.” Companionable silence filled their stroll, arms brushing occasionally. Only when his apartment came into view did the medic speak again. “I meant what I said,” she whispered.

It was always easier to reveal things in the darkness. A cloud hovered over the moon, casting them in its welcome shadow.

“I know,” Kakashi answered just as quietly, as calmly as the cloud. He went up front steps towards his door, glancing over his shoulder when her footsteps stopped. 

“I don’t regret it.”

A pause as he surveyed her, this alluring, spectacular ball of color in his shadowy, moonlit life. “Sakura. Are you coming in or what?”

She blinked. He arched a brow. She smiled, it was slow and beautiful and as Earth-shattering as her fists.

Kakashi reached for his doorknob and she was about to take the first step up towards him, towards _his apartment_ , this time just her—no Naruto, no pretenses, no masks or layers to look beneath.

“Haruno-san. The Hokage requests your presence.”

The duo looked over at the ANBU guard—there was no mistaking that voice, nor the hawk mask that could have been glaring at them both if masks could glare.

“Better not keep her waiting,” Kakashi answered.

Sakura nodded. “Aa. Goodnight, Kakashi.”

“Sakura,” he nodded before fixing one more fleeting look at the ANBU and disappearing into his apartment.

Only after the Copy-Nin was gone did the guard scoff in that all-too familiar, derisive way only _he_ was capable of. “ _Goodnight, Kakashi_ ,” he mimicked in his best imitation of his friend, only to earn a shove from the medic.

“Shut up, Sasuke.”

As they took to the rooftops, the Uchiha laughed and Sakura grinned.

.

.

> _He lowered his head, silver hair tickling her brows. “I don’t think you’re ready,” Kakashi muttered, lips just barely moving against hers, his mask the only barrier keeping him from tasting her mouth._
> 
> _Before he could lean back, Sakura hooked her arms around his neck and kissed him. Even through the fabric between them he could feel the shape of her lips, taste the sweetness of her. “Don’t underestimate me,” she growled against his mouth, holding on tight so that she was pulled up into a sitting position when he moved away._
> 
> _His hands left the headboard, instead finding purchase in her hair._
> 
> _Sakura tugged down the infuriating mask, sparing no time before claiming his lips, and the Copy-Nin moved against her, eliciting a feral moan from her throat. Kakashi mentally swore at the sound, at how it stirred something deep within him that came roaring to life._
> 
> _“Sakura,” was all he managed to rasp when she quickly moved her hips against him._
> 
> _“I want you,” she whispered. A demand. One he was more than willing to fulfill. And then she flipped them over so that she straddled him. The silver-haired Jounin smirked at the sudden switch, the sight of it spurred her on. She made quick work of the shirt he wore to bed and paused to admire him._
> 
> _How could someone be so unbelievably sexy? The angle of his jaw, the planes of his chest, the structure of his face—he was far from perfect, but it was the imperfection that made Kakashi who he was. The scar across his eye, the slightly crooked line of his nose, the lopsided quirk of his lips._
> 
> _“We can stop.”_
> 
> _She blinked. He wanted to stop? One look at his gaze told her everything. She had hesitated, so he worried. Sakura fixed him with a look that she knew he couldn’t misconstrue, and lowered her head, tracing her tongue up from just below his sternum to the lobe of his ear. “I told you already, I want you,” she murmured, before gently blowing back down along the wet trail._
> 
> _He shuddered beneath her. She might have gotten cocky if he hadn’t grasped her thighs and ground upwards, against her core. A surprised—and pleased—groan escaped her, and she gasped at his antics, bracing her hands on his shoulders._
> 
> _Mismatched eyes studied her, his slanted smirk making her chakra pulse. “That felt good, Sakura, but I’ve got other plans for that pretty little mouth of yours.”_
> 
> _A kunai shattered through the window, burying itself into the far wall._
> 
> _Both pairs of eyes jumped to the broken glass and the duo untangled themselves._
> 
> _The tell-tale hissing of an explosive tag caught their attention and they leapt out the window into the cold night._
> 
> _The silver-haired Jounin was at his wits’ end—SERIOUSLY, UNIVERSE?_
> 
> _Sakura had the foresight to grab her weapons holster and fastened it about her bare thigh. The shirt—Kakashi’s shirt—covered her decently enough, but her exposed legs did nothing to help the Copy-Nin suppress indecent thoughts._
> 
> _It was the medic’s voice that brought him back. “What do you want from us.”_
> 
> _The quartet of shinobi hid behind masks. “Your silence.”_
> 
> _Even in their under-dressed states, completely caught off-guard and with one person weaponless, the mysterious shinobi were outskilled. It didn’t take long for Sakura and Kakashi to subdue their attackers._
> 
> _In the end, they were able to discover that they assassins were hired by Kawaguchi Sota, the man they suspected was behind the various disappearances in Fire Country. Apparently there was a tip-off that revealed the Copy-Nin and the Hokage’s protege as the spies who discovered him. One of the allied shinobi who infiltrated the operation and brought Kawaguchi down was captured, tortured, and surrendered the names of the spies—something the Hokage would definitely have to look into._
> 
> _By the end of the fight, Kakashi had relied too heavily on his Sharingan, wanting to minimize the damage to the village._

‘Assassins hired by Kawaguchi Sota found us and attacked. Kakashi, weaponless, used his Sharingan to an alarming extent, hoping to mitigate the damage and disturbance to the civilian village. As short as the battle was, extensive healing was necessary.’

Tsunade frowned at the mission report, fingers wrinkling the edges. 

“So she _did_ just treat his Sharingan,” Shizune read aloud over her shoulder. 

The blonde slammed the scroll onto her desk. _Dammit, Shiranui._ She owed him 100 ryo.

“You needed me, Shishou?”

Tsunade’s amber gaze jumped to the door where her apprentice stood, the Uchiha just behind her. “Aa. I looked into the leak. Seems it was a shinobi from the Sand. You two will rendezvous with the the Kazekage and—”

“Shishou, why can’t the Suna ANBU track down their man?”

“The Kazekage has some...apprehension...with his current ANBU. You will be with Kankurou.”

Sakura nodded, brow furrowing at the implication. Did Suna get infiltrated by enemies? Traitors? “I have so much work to do at the hospital—no one else can—”

“Are you refusing this mission, Sakura?”

The younger medic tensed, a series of questions flying through her mind. “No, Shishou,” she answered, relaxing her shoulders.

“Here are your mission scrolls,” Tsunade said. “You leave at once.”

.

.

“Was Naruto busy or something?” Sakura mused as they ran through the trees.

“This mission requires some finesse,” Sasuke answered, as if that alone should be obvious enough reason to bar the blond loudmouth from going anywhere near it. As an afterthought, he added, “Don’t worry, you’ll get back to _Kakashi_ in no time.”

Sakura scowled behind her owl mask, speeding up to pace beside her dark-haired partner. “Tch. Don’t be jealous because his hair sticks up higher than yours,” she trilled, earning an indignant look from the porcelain hawk.

Just before he charged ahead, she imagined he grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like ‘Annoying.’

.

.

Kakashi wasn’t mad.

So what if he was a bit grumpier than usual? His eye hurt, dammit, and his medic wasn’t there to help! And no, the other medics didn’t do it well enough—give him Sakura or give him death!

Unfortunately for him, _death_ came in the form of the buxom Hokage, who, when he came to answer her summons, was glaring at him. “Why is Shizune telling me that her nurses are refusing to treat you?” she snarled.

Kakashi shrugged. “They all have terrible bed-side manners.”

“Sakura’s on a mission.”

Hm, freshly cut flowers sat in a vase near the window.

“It’s not like she hasn’t gone on missions before.”

Was that a new book on the Hokage’s shelf?

“Does it bother you because it’s with Uchiha?”

Uchiha? He blinked, meeting the Hokage’s gaze. “I don’t understand.” What exactly was she getting at? Not that Kakashi was dumb, of course he knew, but like hell he would allow her to drag it out of him. Especially like that. And even more especially because _there was nothing to drag out_. … _Yet._

Tsunade steepled her hands before her, hiding her grin. There was no mistaking the sudden tension in his fists, hidden as they were in his pockets. “There’s nothing to worry about. Didn’t they try already? It didn’t work out, right. Sakura doesn’t strike me as the masochistic type.”

Hatake’s eye pulsed.

“No matter how much she used to love that Uchiha brat.”

“...Are you going to heal my eye or not.”

Tsunade’s laugh was terrifying.

And she had the worst bed-side manner of all.

Yep, it was official: the Universe truly, irrevocably, hated him.

.

.


	6. Chapter 6

.

.

* * *

**Aegis**

—

Two and a half weeks. 

She was gone for two and a half weeks. In that time-frame, three Jounin teams were dispatched for miscellaneous missions, the Academy Students were getting nearer to their Winter Exams, the leaves from many deciduous trees decorated the streets, the sun rose later and set earlier, and Hatake Kakashi had blown up at precisely 23 unsuspecting people—

“No, I don’t know where your cat is! Do I look like I’m on duty, walking the streets reading what most consider porn? Are you blind?!”

—make that 24.

Genma sighed, pushing off the building he was leaning against to approach the poor old woman who had unknowingly set off the Copy-Nin’s increasingly shortening fuse. 

Two and a half weeks of the silver-haired Jounin wielding curt phrases as blades. Two and a half weeks of lethal glares bearing the static of a chidori.

And Genma

was

sick of it.

The old woman’s face fell and she backed away from the time-bomb of a shinobi, stumbling straight into the brunet’s calming palm. “Don’t mind him, he’s recently been affected by a special jutsu that messes with his mind,” Genma crooned, patting her back. “If he had even an ounce of sanity in him, he’d realize that you _are_ hard of seeing, and he’d offer to _get a Genin team together_ to help you with this _D rank_ _mission_.”

“Oh, thank you! Shiranui-san? I’d know that strong arm anywhere.”

Genma grinned, though she could barely see it. “Aa, it’s me. Just steer clear of Hatake. He’s a bit—” he swirled his pointer finger in a circle near his temple “—off right now.”

“Thank you, Shiranui-san,” the old woman nodded. “I’ll be at home, just send the Genin over when they’re ready!” With that, she shot one more scandalized look at the Copy-Nin before meandering away towards her residence.

Genma fixed his friend with a reprimanding scowl, but Kakashi clearly missed it as his nose was buried behind the glossy blue cover of the latest _Icha Icha_ novel. “Hatake.”

The other Jounin just waved a hand from behind his book, a two finger salute, and turned on his heel to walk away.

Genma grabbed the collar of his flak jacket and marched in the opposite direction, dragging the Copy-Nin backwards. “Nope, we’re having this out now. Training Grounds. Let’s go.”

“Eh? What’s wrong? I’m just trying to read—!”

“Fine,” the brunet Jounin sneered, promptly plucked the little book from his friend’s hands—“But you have to get it first.”—and disappeared.

.

.

Tsunade kicked down the hospital door, stalking towards the sheepish-looking Copy-Nin bandaged all over. “What is the meaning of this, Hatake.” Her voice was steady. Deadly. Kakashi wondered if he could just feign distress and very bravely...pass out. But the blonde was an exceptional medic—she’d sniff out his deceit without blinking a single terrifying eye.

Kakashi deflated, scratching the back of his head. “Ah, Hokage-sama. You’re looking well.”

“Tell me why I’ve got three Jounin hospitalized and a completely decimated Training Ground 10.”

“Well,” the Jounin began, drawing out the word. “Training Ground 3 was still a mess after my birthday sparring—”

“The Jounin, Hatake!” The Hokage snarled. “Shiranui, Mitarashi, and Might—all admitted with near fatal injuries! Why? And you’d better have a good reason.”

Kakashi blinked his single visible eye. “You see, Genma took my book—”

Tsunade’s vein pulsed in her temple and she snatched said book from his hand, marched to the window, and tossed it out. “You are supposed to be on a _vacation_ , Hatake, but it seems you can’t relax when your medic is away—”

“She’s not _my medic_ ,” he grumbled.

“—so clearly I’ll need to keep you busy with missions until she returns.”

Missions?

“I didn’t want to do it, but your time-off is almost up anyways. What do I care if you lose out on a week of vacation,” the blonde chided, crossing her arms just below her ample bust. “When you’re healed, I’ll give you an assignment. Just stay quiet and out of my hair—I’ve got other crap to worry about.”

.

.

He returned one night from a relatively simple C-Rank mission (insulting, really, given his rank) to an irate pastel-haired kunoichi.

“You—you’re supposed to be on vacation!” she accused him from her perch on his window sill. 

If he was surprised to see her there, he didn’t show it, instead crinkling his visible eye in cheerful greeting. “Sakura.” He sat on the edge of his bed, removing first one shoe then the other.

“Don’t give me that,” the young woman growled, stepping down to stand to her full height—which, admittedly, wasn’t much. “You’re always off doing things so...so…”

Whatever she was about to say, however, came to a screeching halt as the Copy-Nin casually, leisurely, lowered his mask. Kakashi doubted he’d ever get used to the effect revealing his face had on her—the flutter of her eyes, the redness tingeing her cheeks, the parting of her lips—and grinned. “What is it that I’m always doing?” 

She shut her mouth, fixing him with a glare. “You’re rash and—“

Kakashi body-flickered into her space, catching her against his window, hands flitting neatly past her arms, resting on the sill, thumbs almost grazing her waist. “And?”

“What are you—?”

“Don’t play dumb, Sakura. Your mind is one of your greatest assets.” And he burrowed his face into her neck. She tasted like sweat and pine—she had been training— _Spirits_ he had missed her, and that thought alone terrified him. There were a select few people he ever missed in his life and they were all dead and buried, but Sakura, she was there and alive and warm and soft and hard and when she tangled her hands into his hair, tilting her head to the side to grant him more access to her elegant neck, when she wrapped her legs around him, he let himself have it, have her.

His hands gripped her beneath her thighs, bracing her against him as he pulled her away from the window, taking a few carefully measured steps backwards, towards his bed, before spinning and tossing her onto it. A surprised gasp left her as she fell, but he was on her at once, not giving her time to recover, to change her mind.

“I missed you,” he growled against her mouth, relishing the mewl of arrogance that spread her lips into a feral smile. “I needed a distraction.”

That was all the explanation he gave and he knew she’d put it together, him taking up missions to keep himself busy in her absence. He knew this woman, knew her in her most vulnerable, knew her in her fiercest, memorizing the structure of her face with his mouth, committing to memory the dips and valleys of her frame with his hands.

“You missed me.” It wasn’t an echo of disbelief, but a truth iterated as if plucking knowledge from a textbook. As if she was coming to terms with the indisputable fact that the man above her, who was currently unzipping the front of her shirt, who was shrugging out of his own flak jacket, had _missed_ her.

Kakashi tossed the gear aside, hands on her mesh undershirt. “Does that surprise you?” he gave it a yank, pulling it from her frame, leaving her in only her bindings and dark shorts.

“No, but I’m surprised you admitted it.”

He could _hear_ the cockiness in her voice and he found her eyes. He watched as her gaze traced along the smirk on his lips. “A shinobi knows when he’s beat,” Kakashi acknowledged, swiftly removing a kunai from the weapons pouch at her thigh and cutting through her bindings. They fell away in graceful layers and Kakashi unabashadely took in the sight of her, the scars that painted her kunoichi history. 

In an act of sheer boldness, she took his hand and placed it upon her breast—silent admonishment, acquiescence, perhaps even an order. 

And it was all Kakashi could do but smirk at the blatant gesture before coercing a chorus of moans from the woman who came crashing into his life with fists of fury and eyes like fire.

He gave her a tentative squeeze, reveling in the way she arced off the bed at his touch and her fingers buried into his hair, scraping down the nape of his neck as she urged him to kiss her, coercing his tongue from his mouth. Nails dragged down his back and he marveled at the way she shivered beneath him when his mouth left her lips to replace his hand on her chest, allowing said hand to trail down her taut middle. Sakura writhed, as eager for him as he was for her if the dampness that soaked through her shorts was any indication.

She ground into his hand, dragging a raspy _“Fuck Sakura”_ from between half-parted lips and she swallowed his words, hips lifting to help him remove her shorts. 

“You—“ she muttered but that was enough and he hastily tugged off his own clothes. They were apart for only an instant before springing together, polarized opposites that belonged _there_ _now curled around each other_ with nothing between them but obscene affirmations surrendered to the night. 

When they were both spent and lying in the Copy-Nin’s bed, naked and sated and staring disbelievingly at the dark ceiling after a torturous and brash fourth round that ended with both a broken lamp and headboard, Sakura’s muttered ‘ _Happy thirty-sixth birthday’_ earned a scoff from Kakashi:

“The night’s not over, yet.”

.

.

Genma was the first to notice. 

Prior to being assigned missions, the silver-haired man was strung taut, ready to snap at any moment. Any time he had at his leisure was spent training, or dully avoiding any and all public eye. But there the Copy-Nin sat, beneath a tree, _reading._

It didn’t take a genius to conclude: “You had sex.”

Kakashi inwardly sighed, not bothering to lower the book that occupied his attention. Instead, he turned the page.

And Genma smirked because lack of denial was practically confirmation in Hatake-speak.

.

.

Ino was the second. 

She eyed her best friend from across the table, her best friend who was scarfing down the food as if she had been starved for days weeks months—and maybe she _was,_ except it wasn’t for food. A cheshire grin stretched her lips and the blonde propped her cheek in her hand.

“It finally happened, eh Forehead?”

Sakura promptly snorted into her miso soup.

.

.

By that afternoon, the rumor had, of course, spread. 

Kakashi was walking past the Hokage tower, on his way to see if a particular pink-haired medic wanted to grab dinner that evening, when a yell of rage erupted from Tsunade’s window: “Dammit, I lost! It couldn’t have happened three days earlier?! I’m out 2000 ryo!”

Of course, a string of expletives wound in and out of the phrase, but that was the basic gist that Kakashi caught as he strolled by.

If he found it odd that Genma insisted on treating him, Sakura, Ino, and Anko to their meal, he didn’t mention it. Likewise, the blonde Yamanaka kept the sake coming. Sakura appeared just as bemused as he was, but she didn’t complain, instead peeking over at him from the corner of her eye—because, yes, they sat beside each other, thighs touching, elbows occasionally grazing.

He arched a brow at her gaze and she grinned right back. They ate their skewers and bar-be-cue and partook of the seemingly endless sake.

At the end of the night, after the friends bid their farewells and meandered back to their homes, he walked with her. He walked with her without bothering to offer, without her asking, and Kakashi was surprised at the contentment he felt in that fact—that neither of them questioned him walking her home, that it was just _understood._

They walked side by side, perhaps closer than necessary, arms occasionally brushing. His hands were tucked in his pockets, hers swung lightly at her sides. 

Their footsteps were rhythmic, the hum of nocturnal critters filled the cold air. 

Kakashi wondered when the last time he felt so at peace was and realized he _couldn’t remember_. Not once in his long (too long) tragic life had he felt so tranquil.

He glanced at the medic at his side, studying the way the moonlight painted her in shades of lavender, tracing her profile with his eyes and recalling marking each and every facet of her face with his lips—

Not furtive at all, she turned her face to meet his wandering gaze head on. She was always like that, he mused, always unafraid to be forthcoming. And she _smiled_ and with it he knew— _He knew_ —that he hadn’t just _missed_ her. 

He hadn’t just craved her in her absence.

He hadn’t just felt worry for a close friend, a teammate.

The warmth coating his skin wasn’t just from the sake.

And long after she took his hand and led him into her apartment, long after they discarded their clothes and exchanged heated touches with harsh breaths that filled her dark bedroom, long after she had fallen asleep curled into his side, Kakashi stared at the ceiling, fingers idly carding through pink strands, the same thought echoing loud in his mind as it became more than just a vague blur and solidified into something he knew he wouldn’t be able to dismiss. One glance at the sleeping and spent woman at his side made it all undeniably concrete—

_Fuck._

.

.

“Why?”

“Geez, Hatake. Can’t I do something nice for one of my dearest friends?”

The duo sat in Kakashi’s apartment. Rather, Kakashi sat on his couch sharpening his weapons when his friend barged in and made himself quite at home in the Copy-Nin’s little kitchen. Kakashi scoffed— _Good luck finding anything of substance_. Only after Genma announced that Kakashi had absolutely no food, nutritional or otherwise, and how in holy hell could a shinobi live in such a sad state of affairs, did he sit down on the couch and offer to treat his friend to lunch.

“No,” Kakashi answered, lifting a kunai to eye-level and studying it’s edge. Unsatisfied, he continued his process.

Genma fidgeted, leaning back along the seat. “Try to do something nice for someone—”

“You already did something nice,” the silver-haired Jounin reminded him. “Dinner, remember?”

“That was nothing—”

“Where’d you get the money for that anyways? Just last week you left me with the bill at Ichiraku, and I don’t recall you going on any missions.” He stopped sharpening then, lifting the weapon once more to inspect his work. 

His friend scoffed. “Someone owed me and they finally paid up,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. When Kakashi only traced the edge of the blade with his finger, the brunet went on. “Fine, if you don’t want my company I’ll go bother someone else.” He made his way to the door—

A kunai embedded itself into the threshold. 

“Well, looks sharp enough. You mentioned lunch?”

Genma blinked and removed the kunai, tossing it back at his friend. “C’mon, old man. We need to get some food in you. That was a pathetic throw.”

.

.

Kakashi was a genius.

That was what he’d been told since he was a child.

He was a genius and _he knew_ that there had been a conspiracy going on. Tsunade had given him and Sakura extra time on their mission. Tsunade had told him to go to Hill Country _knowing Sakura was there_. Genma had confirmed as much when he asked if it was Tsunade’s suggestion in the first place. Tsunade had lost 2000 ryo. In the same day, Genma had come into a fortune—and not just Genma, Kakashi noted. But the Yamanaka girl as well.

Wasn’t Ino the one who always dropped hints about _dirty old men_ and openly flirted with older shinobi?

“They placed bets, you know.”

He glanced at the medic, eyeing the curve of her spine as she lied sprawled on the grass before him. She turned the pages of the medical text, not even looking up from the words. 

“Don’t know what gave them the idea in the first place.” She was trying to sound off-hand. Trying. 

Kakashi grinned beneath his mask, lowering his book. “Maybe it was the fact that you so clearly had a thing for me.”

At that, she balked, finally looking up at him. She was dappled in sunshine and shade and he couldn’t stop _that_ thought before it came to life in his mind, but he let it hang in momentary existence before it was blown away in the next breeze. 

“I actually think it was the other way around,” she quipped, resting her cheek in her hand. “I heard you asked for me when you were healing after you returned.”

Teasing. 

“And I heard you wouldn’t let anyone touch your Sharingan while I was gone.”

Arrogance.

“And I didn’t forget the way you tried to peep at me at the hot springs—”

He rose to his defense a beat too late: “I wasn’t _peeping_.”

Sakura laughed. “Then why was your Sharingan activated?”

He hid behind his book then. “You caught me by surprise.”

Her scent reached him before he sensed her proximity. Lowering his book, he eyed the young woman who knelt before him wearing an irritatingly endearing smirk. “Shinobi should always be prepared. Ne, Kakashi-Sensei?”

His dark eye tipped sky-ward, grateful for the mask that hid his grin. “Shut up, Sakura.”

.

.

Another month passed. Four weeks and three days, if anyone was counting—which he wasn’t. 

A month of easy touches and knowing grins. A month of sharing beds and intense spars—intense _other things_ , too. A month of the often elusive and detached Copy-Nin swinging by the hospital to visit the head medic, a month of neither dispelling nor affirming questioning looks.

He realized, belatedly, that nothing had changed—he and Sakura had continued on as things were when he first returned, except with the added bonus of the—well.

Sakura was easy to have in his life, too easy, as if she had always belonged there and he was just too blind to realize it. Had _she_ even known? Had whatever was between them crept up on her, too?

He didn’t lend any further credence to the amorphous epiphany about her—

He didn’t need to. He wasn’t the sort of guy to muse over-long on things that didn’t matter. Because it _didn’t_ matter. Voicing it didn’t make it any more real, keeping it in his mind didn’t make it any less true. And he hoped that with every kiss, every touch, every murmur of her name on his lips, that she understood what he was trying to say.

He _was_ the sort of guy who lingered on regret, try as he might to leave it behind him. It was his history that made him the man he was and it was impossible to dismiss the harsh realities that contributed to the person he became.

Standing before the monument, Kakashi stared at the names. His teammates, long dead. 

His eye pulsed. 

A part of him felt guilty— _so fucking guilty_ —to have found any sort of happiness in life when the two people who deserved it more met early ends. 

It was Genma who found him that morning, already knowing morbid, guilt-ridden blame filtered through his friend’s mind.

“They’d want you to be happy,” the brunet said, disrupting the morning stillness.

Kakashi didn’t move.

“She makes you happy. They won’t— _don’t, can’t_ —begrudge you that.”

His single visible eye closed and he hoped— _knew_ —that Genma was right but that didn’t absolve him of any of his guilt. “I don’t deserve it,” he muttered, the words barely making it past his mask.

Genma scoffed. “Even if that were true—which it isn’t, you self-deprecating moron— _she_ deserves it.”

Kakashi couldn’t argue with that.

.

.

That night, he and Genma suited up for their mission.

He was late in meeting his partner, but Genma didn’t ask why.

_“Be careful,” Sakura demanded, leaving no room for argument._

_Kakashi grinned, his mask still pooled around his neck. His hand found her waist and he tugged her to him. Forehead against hers, he wanted to say it, wanted to tell her, because Genma’s reassurance earlier that morning in the first light of day dismantled his hesitation. He wanted to tell her because he didn’t think he could hold it in any longer._

_But she kissed him instead. “Don’t,” she insisted, pulling his mask over his mouth. She grinned. “Tell me when you get back.”_

_She knew. Of course she knew. She was a genius, too._

.

.

Blood.

Panic.

Rage.

Hatake Kakashi didn’t even make it to the gates before he collapsed, his comrade unconscious in his hold.

Even after Genma was taken from him and brought to the hospital, the Copy-Nin could feel the weight of his body on his arms, on his spine, on his conscience. It was a weight he couldn’t escape, a suffocating, all-encompassing burden that bore down on his shoulders.

.

.

Kakashi didn’t sleep.

The Hokage and _his medic_ worked tirelessly to stabilize the fallen Anbu. 

Kakashi didn’t eat. 

Hours passed in a haze. He didn’t move from the seat in the waiting room. He stared at his blood-drenched uniform, at his trembling hands. Dimly, he knew Anko and Guy and Iruka were with him, but he didn’t— _couldn’t_ —register their presence. He was unresponsive to their apologies, their assurance that it wasn’t his fault, that it was the way of the shinobi, that at least he brought Genma home—

Their words were a dull buzz, a backdrop to the main show:

Dying breaths and last wishes—

An eye that was a gift and a curse—

A crackling chidori and unrequited (misplaced because he couldn’t return it, couldn’t lie, couldn’t make himself give her what she deserved) love—

In a fluid motion he stood and pivoted, delivering an angry punch into the wall behind him.

Silence.

Then: “He’s stable.”

Kakashi’s arm lowered at his side and he turned to see a ragged and sleep-deprived Sakura at the threshold. If he was in his right mind he would note the paleness of her face, the trembling of her hands, the blood staining her clothes, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t in his right mind and in all honesty he wasn’t sure if he was _ever_ in his right mind because what the hell was he doing playing at something he didn’t deserve? Something he doubted he had the strength for anymore?

His thoughts were consumed by fallen comrades and the barely breathing Anbu who was like a brother to him. He wrapped himself in that darkness, wanting—

trying,

desperately trying

—to over-shadow the beacon that was Haruno Sakura. It wasn’t a light that he needed, it wasn’t love or acceptance—his whole life, his _title_ was rooted in and dedicated to the friends who deserved more. How dare he entertain the prospect of being happy when when…

Kakashi nodded and brushed past her.

.

.

“Shiranui, you idiot.

“You colossal, arrogant moron.

“You—you—

“Don’t you dare fucking die on me.”

.

.

Haruno Sakura was a genius.

Kakashi knew that, and he appreciated that. He stayed at Genma’s side for days in silent vigil. She would enter, check on the sleeping man, leave without so much as an attempt at comfort. She knew what Kakashi needed—time, space—and he appreciated that.

Perhaps he was selfish.

He should be grateful, thankful, for her hard work, for her consideration, but he didn’t have the capacity to acknowledge her. He couldn’t, when the friend who pushed him to welcome her into his life lied on the bed, his heart so weak that the monitor struggled to beep. How could he allow himself the happiness of her presence, her attention, her touch when his best friend— _again, it always happened, why did it happen_ —was on the brink of death.

How had he gotten so deep? How had he allowed himself to feel so strongly about someone again? How had he _forgotten_ the repercussions? 

Long ago, he recalled telling a young Uchiha brat that shinobi became strong to protect their precious people. At the time, he wanted Sasuke to understand the importance of having such people in his life. He was trying to keep the darkness at bay for _him_ because Kakashi had experienced it, lived it, and he didn’t wish such a burden on anyone, least of all his pupil.

Never in a million years did he think he’d ever be given that glimpse of happiness for himself again. But he couldn't do it, couldn’t face it again. 

Unbidden, Sakura replaced Genma’s face on the hospital bed—

His hands curled into fists. He couldn’t— _couldn’t or he’d go absolutely insane with grief and he didn’t know what he’d do with himself but he knew he couldn’t bear it couldn’t bear the mere idea of Sakura...—_ let anyone that close to him ever again.

.

.

When Genma finally came-to, it was in the middle of a check-up. 

Kakashi noticed first, even before Sakura saw, distracted as she was with her gentle hand hovering over Genma’s chest, eyes closed in concentration. 

The brunet’s eyes fluttered, vision blurry, before settling on the medic at his bed-side.

Kakashi sat on the other side of the bed, following Genma’s gaze.

The goddamned-practically-on-his-deathbed Anbu had the _audacity_ to smirk. “If you really want to make me feel better, you certainly _know_ how,” he teased, eyes dropping to her hand as if there was a secret there between them.

Kakashi was surprised (and bothered though he refused to recognize that because he had determinedly set aside whatever it was that she meant to him) at the blush that filled her cheeks, and even more surprised ( _bothered bothered bothered_ ) that rather than delivering a sound punch at Genma’s poor attempt at flirting, she _hugged him_. She hugged him as if he was the dearest person in the world to her, she hugged him as if his existence was the sole purpose of _her being_ , and Genma hesitated before patting her shoulder.

“Sakura, your boyfriend’s glaring at me.”

And he swore it was in slow motion—why was she always moving in slow motion?—that she turned her head.

He noted first her long neck, then the tears that followed the curve of her cheek, then her wide watery eyes.

And he

couldn’t

breathe.

“I know we had some good times, believe me, I haven’t forgotten, but maybe now’s not the time to relive them, eh?”

Then she was looking at Genma again, a familiar furrow in her brow. She leaned away and lightly whacked him over the head with her clipboard. “I’m glad to know you’re feeling better,” she sniffed, straightening up and away. “You’ve been out four days, Shiranui.” Her voice softened at that. “I...I was worried.”

Tension settled over all three and Kakashi wondered just who she was speaking to. She was turned towards Genma but the Copy-Nin couldn’t shake the fact that it felt as though her words were directed _at him_.

“Your vitals look good—” she continued, adopting her professional tone.

“That’s not all that looks good—”

An exasperated huff. “On the brink of death and _still_ he flirts.” But she grinned at him, before settling her eyes on the silent silver-haired Jounin. “Kakashi...”

He waited, hanging on every syllable, every breath.

“You look like shit.”

And she walked away.

Inwardly, he knew he deserved that. He had ignored her since he returned, and though she had the sense to leave him alone, he couldn’t pretend that it didn’t hurt her. He _knew_ her, afterall. He kept his single dark eye on his friend, refusing to trail her exit.

But Genma was giving him a _look_. Surprise, confusion, then...a glare. 

Genma _knew_.

Fucking great.

“Alright. When’d it happen,” the brunet opened.

Kakashi averted his gaze to the ceiling. “When did _what_ happen?”

“You’re really going to pretend with me?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Geez, Hatake—it’s like pulling teeth with you.” The bed-ridden shinobi scoffed, shaking his head. And then: “She has no idea?”

Oh, she had an idea. Kakashi recalled the way her mouth quirked when he left for the mission, the way she told him to tell her later, to tell her when he returned. That was two weeks ago.

Rather than reveal anything to his friend, he shrugged. “...I haven’t told her.”

“Are you _going_ to tell her?”

“No.” It came out as a weary exhale.

“Well why the hell not!”

Now _that_ was a good question, one that Kakashi really wasn’t prepared to answer, at least not out loud. 

Sensing his friend’s unease, Genma smirked. “You know, for a genius, you’re a giant idiot.”

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was a roller coaster. plz don’t hurt me. -hides- two chapters left bishes yaaaaaa. let me know what you think (:


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guys. your reviews for that last chapter had me grinning from ear to ear, truly. they made my day! so here is the penultimate chapter because you guys are absolutely fantastic! seriously, 1600+ hits and 106 kudos? i’m _floored_. you guys are seriously, truly wonderful!

.

.

* * *

**Aberrant**

—

In the peace following the massive war, he had gotten complacent. Did he forget what he threw himself into after losing his own teammates? Did he forget that pain? What was he doing, flirting with it again? Had he not learned his lesson?

So maybe he was being selfish—fuck it. He didn’t care. He didn’t want to let her or anyone back into his heart, into his life, in _that_ way. 

A week passed until Genma was finally dismissed. He stopped mentioning Kakashi’s relationship (or lack thereof) with a certain head medic, but Kakashi could still sense the shift in the air whenever she came around to check on him. The brunet would fall uncharacteristically reticent, and Sakura, for all her intellect and powers of deduction, didn’t pry.

Kakashi could read from her perfunctory greetings and neutral eyes that she understood loud and clear.

So the great love story (Yamanaka’s words, not his) came to an abrupt end with little pomp and a flurry of hushed whispers.

He ignored the rumors, it wasn’t difficult—no one knew what happened or why, and no one needed to.

Even Sakura wasn’t made privy to his reasons. A part of him wondered if he should tell her but decided that she would just work her way past his excuses—she had a knack for that, for allaying his doubts, and he didn’t want to give her the opportunity.

Besides, it was easier for him to keep her at arms’ length when she was angry at him.

That wasn’t to say that he was free of reprimanding looks, if not from Genma, then from other Jounin who _knew_ his history. 

Hatake Kakashi prided himself in his ability to let things slide, but the scorn from his comrades managed to ruffle something deep down in his chest that he kept guarded behind ribs reinforced with regret and dipped in anger. Let them judge, he could withstand their disapproval, he had shouldered the heaviest and most incessant disapproval for years, what was a little more? Those who knew him in his youth could detect the change in him—he was sharper with his words, colder in his greetings, and more brutal in his spars. The rough edges that smoothened over time were back, sharper than ever.

He didn’t know why he had let them dull in the first place.

One spar in particular landed him in the Hokage’s office. Again.

Tsunade glared at him, not bothering to hide her reproach. He stood, hands in pockets, mind already miles and miles away as she lashed out:

“You’re getting reckless, Hatake. 

“Accepting only S-Class missions—

“How many life-threatening injuries have you obtained?

“How many comrades have you sent to the hospital in your spars?

“Wasn’t almost losing Shiranui once enough? Now you need to send him to his final resting place yourself?”

Kakashi’s mind buzzed as he recalled the electric blue of his chidori in his teammate’s eyes.

“Are you even listening? Hatake—!”

“I want him to be prepared,” Kakashi replied, dark eye zeroing in on his Hokage. She stood, hands slammed atop her desk, and in her anger he recognized the temper of a woman much younger with shorter hair but with eyes and fists just as unyielding.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” she snapped, leveling him with a look he couldn’t escape. Never had he felt so pinned in place. “I can’t refuse you missions, but I would think long and hard before incapacitating your comrades again. There’s a line between a friendly spar and a traitor. Dismissed.”

He left without a backward glance, but not before swooping the S-class mission scroll sitting on her desk.

.

.

Weeks passed in nightmares and bloodshed and Kakashi told himself over and over that it was his duty as a shinobi and that was the only purpose of his existence, his survival—to serve his village. He couldn’t count how many times he awoke in the hospital; not once did he see apples on the side-table, nor daffodils in a vase.

For how often he was in there (“Hatake-san, if you’re not on a mission you’re here. Do you still have an apartment at all?”) it was a miracle that he never once caught sight of pink hair and concerned eyes. 

Or maybe it wasn’t a miracle, maybe it was intentional.

It was definitely intentional.

He didn’t care. 

He _didn’t care._

On his way to meet his teammates for another mission, he braced against the howling wind. The leaves at his feet swirled in a frenzy. 

_Shut up, Universe._

.

.

The first time he even sensed her presence since Genma was released was two and a half months later. He was returning from a mission, unharmed and heading home, and happened to be passing along the rooftops of Genma’s street when he felt it— _her_ chakra. 

It was late, much too late for anyone not returning on a mission to be awake.

Her chakra ebbed and flowed, a flame withstanding a strong breeze. 

He recognized the second chakra after. It crackled, overpowered. 

And surprised him.

Both relaxed then, soothed.

He didn’t have to see to verify who it was, didn’t want to see.

.

.

“Well if it isn’t the elusive Copy-Nin.”

Kakashi stared at the monument, at the pair of names that would haunt him forever.

“I know you know. I felt your chakra. She did, too.”

His fist clenched in his pocket.

“It’s not...like that. With us. She came over because—”

“Genma,” the silver-haired Jounin interrupted, finally glancing over his shoulder at his friend, his brother. “Go home.”

“Talk to her, Hatake.”

“I have a mission.”

Genma caught his arm as he tried to stalk away. The grip was fierce, empty of any shred of friendliness. It was protective, a warning, a plea. “Talk to her after, then. She doesn’t deserve this. Swallow your goddamned pride and—”

“If you know so much about what she deserves then why don’t you give it to her.” The words were torn from his throat as if by a vengeful demon. 

“Because she deserves it from _you_ , jackass,” Genma sniped. “I didn’t realize the great Hatake Kakashi would ever hide from something that scared him. I thought he’d grow up at some point and _confront her_ _._ I never would have dreamed that you’d—”

“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you thought, eh Shiranui?”

No one knew him. _No one understood. No one no one no—_

“She said you would react this way,” Genma muttered. “Told me it was fruitless, that you really were too stubborn for your own good. She understands this,” he gestured helplessly before him, “behavior of yours. She’s come to terms with never having closure. But...Hatake...she’s not the same.”

Kakashi turned away. “Good.”

If she wasn’t the same, then maybe it would be easier to move past her.

.

.

It was not easier.

She was all professional grace and unrelenting presence. He hadn’t realized she was assigned to his team, and mentioned it when he saw pink hair peeking from behind the ANBU mask (she was _ANBU_ _,_ and damn if a small part of him wasn’t proud).

The porcelain face just stared at him. “Your third member was not discharged,” she answered evenly.

For a split second he worried that Kurenai was hurt, or worse, but then he remembered their spar and he looked away. Their fight wasn’t that violent, Kurenai had some scratches at best—clearly the Hokage was making a statement, regardless of how it would affect her apprentice. But he had to give it to Sakura, she was keeping shit together better than him.

There was no denying that she was an asset to his team—

But she was also a distraction.

She trailed behind, not because she was weak or slow, but because she was the _medic_. She was crucial. They needed her.

_(“Stop being so stubborn. You need her! Especially since you can’t seem to keep out of the damned hospital,” the Godaime had cracked one day when she suggested adding Sakura to his line-up.)_

He had argued for another medic and gotten it, but not this time.

Sakura was different in that she maintained distance between them, but she wasn’t _rude_ , she didn’t even appear to be _mad_. She was pleasant as ever, polite, and an exceptional subordinate. She did her job and did it well but her eyes were impassive when she addressed him and the space between them never breached two feet and if he had to see her shoulder-check their blond third teammate, or ruffle his hair, or say his name with such _affection_ one more time—

He reminded himself her distance was what he wanted.

But it didn’t make it any easier.

.

.

Hatake Kakashi was in a _mood._

Their mission was executed well, with minimal confrontation. They were on their way back to Konoha, spirits high, and for the first time in he-couldn’t-remember-how-long he heard her _laugh_ _._

The sound surprised him and the chakra he exerted to his feet shifted. He slipped. He caught himself of course, pushing off a lower branch as they raced through the trees. But his sudden fall cut into her staccato laugh. 

“Alright, Kakashi-sensei?”

Kakashi glanced at the fox mask. “Fine, Naruto.”

Sakura didn’t say anything.

A moment later, Naruto made her laugh _again._

He pushed them faster.

.

.

He couldn’t tell you when the rumors started. Sometime after the new year. Whatever relationship existed between him and the pastel-haired medic was reduced to only curt responses and perfunctory assessments. He told himself it was better that way, better for him—

He was being selfish, but his dead teammates were selfish in their actions too, weren’t they? Why couldn’t _he_ be? He would be selfish and guard himself from that kind of pain and he would give himself—body and soul—to the village. If she so happened to be part of it, then he would give all of himself to her, too, but not in the way she wanted.

He would protect her from the shadows, protect her and love her in the only way that someone as damaged and selfish and fucked up as he was could. 

None of that made it any easier to hear that she was seeing someone.

“I hear the Uchiha threatened the guy,” Anko laughed, unabashed in bringing it up in his presence.

The table stiffened, but Kakashi didn’t respond. He was familiar with Anko’s penchant for pressing buttons she ought to leave alone. 

“He’s some civilian,” she went on as if discussing the weather. “Cute, but too easy to scare. Apparently he was practically crying when Uchiha confronted him about his _intentions_ _.”_ And she laughed, louder that time, slapping the table in glee. “Can you imagine?”

A civilian.

A _civilian_?

Kakashi drank his beer.

.

.

.

Alright who was this _cute civilian?_

.

.

Who _the fuck_ had the balls to ask out a kunoichi of her calibre?

.

_A fucking civilian?_

.

.

“Kakashi?”

A part of him was glad to have startled her into sounding something other than polite. She recovered, but not quickly enough—he saw it, the surprise, the _relief_ _,_ in her wide green eyes. It wasn’t just his imagination, or a trick of the light. _He saw it, dammit._

“What are you doing here?” Her tone was guarded, face a mask once again.

But he _saw it_ _._ He was crouched on her window sill; to the untrained eye he was still as a statue, but it was evident by the strain on his knuckles as he held himself in place, evident in the stance of his feet, one foot slightly protruding over the ledge, that he was drunk.

Sakura sighed then, dropping her impassive charade and marching towards him. “You really think you can just drop in and ask me to, what, speed up your inebriation? You’ve really got some—”

He stepped down, stopping her approach. First one leg, then the other, and he stood, leaning back along the pane, visible eye not leaving her face. She was still too far to reach. 

It was evening and the light in her room was off. 

It was always easier in the dark.

“I didn’t come here for that,” he whispered. His eye traced the movement of her throat, the way she swallowed, the tension in her jaw. He fought the urge to drag his fingers through her hair. How long had it been? So long. Too long. Forever ago.

Moments passed and everything that had gone unsaid rose between them, stifling and screaming to be acknowledged. She broke the silence first and her voice was exactly as he remembered.

“Kakashi,” the way she said his name sent a thrill up his spine, “I—”

“Sakura-san! The curry—! Is it supposed to boil like this?”

She tensed, face stricken, and without tearing her eyes from the man at her window called back: “No Hiro-san, lower the temperature!”

“A civilian,” Kakashi said.

“He’s nice.” She kept looking at him expectantly, as if she wanted him to do something, say something. She hadn’t even blinked. 

“ _Nice_ _,”_ the Copy-Nin echoed, perhaps a bit savagely. 

Immediately after, he wished he could take it back because Sakura’s eyes widened at his reaction and suddenly she was staring at him as if she _saw_ , as if she _knew—_

“I won’t ever have to worry about him not coming home from a mission because he’s got some death-wish and self-imposed—”

Kakashi body-flickered into her space, cutting off her words with his mere presence. She didn’t flinch, just tilted her head back to stare up at him. His hands were still in his pockets, if he removed them he knew he would be unable to keep them from touching her, and once he did _that_ he doubted he could go back to his carefully maintained detachment. He lowered his forehead to rest against hers and she inhaled, stealing the breath from his mouth, drawing it out through his mask.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

She closed her eyes. “I know.” 

And just like that, the restless leaves settled on the moon-dappled roads.

When she opened her eyes again, he was gone.

.

.

Life without Haruno Sakura was exactly like life with Haruno Sakura save for two things.

One: less experimenting with medical ninjutsu in the bedroom.

And two: he found that the days blended together seamlessly, one after the other, a perpetual existence with neither highs nor lows. 

Life was a single monotonous shade of grey. Not the kind of grey that predicted a storm approaching, but the kind of grey that you might glance at and wonder if the white was simply dirty, forgotten.

Life was an aged, decrepit, sad white.

“You need to get laid.”

The Copy-Nin snorted from behind his book.

“But hear me out!” Genma, from his position on the grass and staring up at the sky, waved a hand. “You need to get laid.”

“Was that a different suggestion than before?” Kakashi drawled, disinterested.

“You’ve adjusted,” the brunet continued as if his friend hadn’t spoken at all, “and I mean, color me surprised—what happened anyways? It’s almost like you guys are friends again—”

(Behind his book, beneath his mask, Kakashi clenched his teeth.)

“—and she’s moved on—”

(Ground his teeth so hard they could turn to dust.)

“—but I digress. Point is, we need to get you back out on the market,” Shiranui finished, replacing his hand behind his head. The senbon between his lips bounced as he spoke. “Might release some of that tension in your shoulders.”

“I don’t have any tension in my shoulders,” Kakashi deadpanned, idly turning a page.

“Right, did I say _shoulders_ _?_ I meant—”

“I get laid plenty,” the Copy-Nin cut in. And it was true—he found release on his missions away. Not that anyone needed to know about his private matters. “No tension here.”

Genma sighed. “There goes 500 ryo,” he muttered to himself, scowling up at the clouds.

.

.

“You’re not looking good, Hatake.”

“Such charm,” he quipped, tilting his head her way.

There was no denying that Haruno Sakura would always be an unmitigated beauty in his eyes but finally, after the better part of a year, he could look at her and not feel the need to gather her in his arms. An ache lingered in his chest but there was nothing that could squash the fondness he had for her—it had taken a year and a half for them to settle into the relationship they should have had to begin with.

Easy, friendly, respectful.

Sakura rolled her eyes and prodded him with her finger—she could do that now and he wouldn’t flinch away, she could smile at him and he wouldn’t get angry—and scoffed. “I have more charm in this finger than you do in your whole body.”

She glanced at her clipboard and he took the opportunity to greedily take in her face. He sat in the hospital bed, bandaged around his torso and right arm, and of course, the Sharingan. She settled on the seat beside his bed, idly flipping through his papers. 

“So, how is it?” she muttered absently.

“ _It’s_ fine,” escaped him before he could stop it.

Her eyes jumped to him and suddenly everything that had transpired between them came hurtling to the present. For a single terrifying moment, he wondered if she would leave him in the care of another medic just to avoid it all, but she was Sakura and she was strong—stronger than he gave her credit for. 

She arched a brow. “Your _eye_.”

“You’ll check it no matter what I say.” Soft, pensive.

A small smile—genuine, sincere, perhaps a bit sad—stretched her lips. “Aa, you’re right,” she said quietly. 

And just like that he knew without a doubt that he had left as great an impression on her as she did on him.

.

.

They were _friends._

That was it. Nothing more. He never told her how he felt, and she never told him that she knew. Whatever they had created was laid to rest and the whole thing was really very somber and civilized and mature. Somehow, they managed to salvage their friendship, and really should anyone have been surprised? They worked well as a team, and she was quick on her toes and he had always admired her tenacity, hadn’t he?

The harmless flirting was what got him in the mess in the first place but this time they both knew where they stood, so it never breached an unspoken line. They had been there, done that and almost lost each other forever.

Never again.

_They were friends._

(So why did he want to go out and scream happiness to the world and dance on the rooftops when he heard she had ended things with that civilian boy?)

.

.

“You never liked Hiro.”

A scoff.

“You _didn’t!”_

Kakashi rolled his eyes, not dignifying her accusation with a response.

“Why didn’t you?” Quieter. Withdrawn. Hopeful?

He paused from sharpening his weapons. “He can’t protect you.”

She punched him hard for that one, storming away in the wake of a righteous “I don’t need protecting, you ass!”

.

.

“Kakashi—“

“Not now, Genma,” the man side-stepped, meandering down the road, nose buried in his book.

“ _Kakashi_ _._ Sakura’s in the hospital.”

.

.

_“I don’t need protecting, you ass!”_

.

.

He should have been glad he didn’t see her when she was admitted, a bloody, mangled mess, practically dead if the look on Naruto’s face was any indication. The blond was beside himself with grief, with rage, and to Kakashi’s mild surprise so was their dark-haired teammate. 

It was an ANBU mission for the former Team 7.

She was the medic, how was she the one that was in the worst state?

“Goddammit Sakura,” the Uchiha growled as he paced in the waiting room, chakra spiking in aggravation, in guilt, “she’s so damned self-sacrificing, you know? Fuck. _Fuck.”_

It was supposed to be easy—in and out assassination, but it was a lure. It was a trap. And Sakura paid the price. He didn’t need the details, didn’t want them, they didn’t matter. What mattered was Haruno Sakura was bleeding out on the hospital bed, and even in the hands of the greatest medic in all of Fire Country, perhaps of all the Countries, there was only so much someone could do to cheat death.

Naruto and Sasuke walked the length of the waiting room, back and forth, unable to sit still, grumbling and growling and letting all the world know of their despair, their terror, and Kakashi _knew_ that he had done the right thing in ending whatever tentative _relationship_ almost bloomed between him and the injured medic. The pain was sharp enough, he couldn’t imagine what—

If they had—

If she was—

“ _Fuck_ I can’t—I can’t stay here,” Naruto exploded. “I need to—I need to—”

“Go,” Kakashi granted. He knew exactly what the blond needed, he needed to destroy, to scream, to rampage. “Training Ground 26, it’s free right now. I’ll stay here and send Pakkun if anything changes while you’re gone.”

Naruto blinked at his former sensei, eyes bluer than the summer skies, large and appreciative, and nodded. “Coming, teme?”

The Uchiha was staring at the Copy-Nin, dark eyes calculating. One second. Two. Then, “Aa.”

When they disappeared, Kakashi sighed, rose from his seat, and punched the wall. 

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLZ DON’T HATE ME -hides-


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos: 118 , comments: 64 , bookmarks: 18 , hits: 1843  
>  _You guys rock._  
> 

.

.

* * *

**Absolution**

—

“It was my fault.”

Kakashi silently agreed but then _he knew_ the woman asleep on the mattress. “You and I both know there’s nothing you could have done differently. You said it yourself—she’s a self-sacrificer.”

Hatake Kakashi was well-aware of the formidable bonds between Team 7. He had witnessed them first-hand—nothing would break them apart, they had crawled through hell and back and come out stronger for it. He knew against all doubts that Sasuke and Naruto had done _everything in their power_ to keep her safe.

And even that wasn’t enough.

What were the implications of that?

_She would give anything, everything, to protect those precious to her._

The thought was sobering.

Haruno Sakura was more than a talented medic, she gave all of herself for those she loved and—

What if he had been there? He would have _died_ before she could have gotten into such a state. What the _hell_ were her two dumbass teammates preoccupied with that they couldn’t—

Kakashi knew it wasn’t fair to place blame. He didn’t know what happened (didn’t want to know, couldn’t hear or face what happened) and he wasn’t there.

He wasn’t there to protect her.

_He wasn’t there._

Sasuke didn’t turn to look at him, instead sitting silent at her bedside, the dutiful teammate. Or something more?

Kakashi told himself it was better that way. He remained at the door, hands in pockets, trying and failing to appear appropriately (because god one look at him and everyone could tell that he was falling apart at the seams) worried for the young woman lying beneath pristine white sheets with hair like springtime and eyes like gems. She was everything good about the world.

And him? There was poison in him, burning him up from the inside. He made do with the acrid blood running through his veins, trying to obliterate memories of a woman with green eyes and daring fingers on the edge of his mask, telling him what she wanted. She deserved better than that, better than a man whose blood had long ago run cold.

It seemed he was right all along: she didn’t know what she wanted. Or maybe that wasn’t it—she didn’t know what she _needed._ There was nothing Hatake Kakashi could bring to the table for a woman like Haruno Sakura. She was devotion and summer and resplendent in her existence, unconditional in her love and understanding and he…

He couldn’t have someone like that in his life, not again. Especially not if he—

It didn’t matter.

 _It didn’t matter_ how he felt because it was a moot point, anyways.

It had always been Sasuke, hadn’t it? Written in the stars since their childhood. It was always Sasuke, and he _knew that_ or maybe he had to tell himself that because seeing her on the bed, barely breathing, a shell of the dazzling kunoichi he knew her to be was making him go

_crazy._

The Uchiha would take care of her, Kakashi knew that like the back of his hand. The protective, perhaps slightly jealous and distant Uchiha Sasuke would give her what she wanted—she had always loved him, and regardless of what Tsunade said about them not working out, Kakashi figured they’d get their shit together eventually. It was just a matter of time. They’d be a power-couple: the Uchiha heir and the Hokage’s Apprentice, Sannins in their own right.

Written in the stars, indeed.

He turned to leave when Sasuke broke the silence—“It was your fault, too.”

At that, Kakashi paused. Though his former student rarely spoke more than a handful of words at a time, something in the edge of Sasuke’s tone told Kakashi he was not done.

The Uchiha’s voice was a growl, feral and unapologetic. He stood, turning to face his old mentor. “She was worried about you. She was distracted by your stupid,” he gestured an arm and Kakashi couldn’t recall a moment when he’d seen the young man so erratic over something besides Naruto or _power,_ “whatever it is between you two.” Something flickered across the younger man’s face, as if there was something he wanted to say. “Do you know what her last worry was? Disappointing _you_. Never seeing _you again._ ”

Kakashi wanted to both pry and deny, in the end, he settled for silence.

“Men around her—we fuck up.”

 _Well that was the understatement of the century_.

“We royally fuck up and it’s not fair. It’s not fair to her. You said she’s self-sacrificing—that’s just who she is. She will always, always give and people like us, all we do, all we know, is how to _take—_ ”

Those words settled like heavy stones in the pit of his stomach. Kakashi tensed, hands curling into fists in his pockets. As if the Uchiha-brat knew jack shit about his history. How _dare_ he— “I have _never taken_ —”

“ _Toy_ then. Is that any better?” Sasuke didn’t have to say exactly what Sakura always gave to the people she loved, to the people she would die for. They both know he meant her cracked heart.

Kakashi wanted to deny the allegations but the words died behind his mask.

“Take it from someone who had that power over her once,” Sasuke went on, voice tired, but expression just as hard, just as fierce as before. “ _It doesn’t last forever_. She’s not invincible. Her—“ he tensed, as if forcing the word past his lips was like tearing his own heart from his chest, straight through his rib cage “—love, that kind of love, isn’t as constant as everyone makes it out to be. If it were...if it _were_ …” he exhaled, struggling for words as if he had never uttered those truths aloud before.

And maybe he hadn’t.

Sasuke met the Copy-Nin’s eyes. “...if it were, then she would have said yes when I asked her to marry me.”

Kakashi had a million questions: when did the Uchiha propose? Why had no one known? Why did she refuse?

Before he could wrap his head around voicing _any_ of them, a familiar presence interrupted.

“Oh Kakashi-sensei, I didn’t know you’d be here or I would have gotten you one, too!” Naruto said as he walked past the silver-haired Jounin to hand his teammate a cup of tea. He sensed the tension—anyone could sense the tension—and glanced between the Sharingan users. “Is something wrong?”

Another beat, then Kakashi scratched the back of his head, eye crinkling dismissively. “Eh? Just worried about Sakura, of course. And don’t worry about it Naruto, I was just on my way out.” He nodded to both then left—he’d just visit Sakura another time.

.

.

Except there _was_ no other time. Her two watch dogs remained in her presence, permanent and wracked with guilt (as they should be, and somewhere in his old worn out heart he was _so happy_ that they were all together, as their former sensei he couldn’t ask for better teamwork). It gave him no time to see her, to face her, to be angry with her for being foolish or reckless or or—

_(“I won’t ever have to worry about him not coming home from a mission because he’s got some death-wish and self-imposed—”)_

“Hatake.”

His visible dark eye jumped from the road to see his brunet friend.

Genma, hands in pockets and looking properly solemn, managed to tilt the edge of his mouth into an apologetic, understanding grin. “Let’s spar.”

.

.

If days without Haruno Sakura in his life passed in aged, decrepit, sad white, then days without Haruno Sakura in _general_ were the most unappealing dingey _grey_.

He felt that all of Konoha should be in some sort of mourning, so it bothered him that everyone seemed to bustle about with their daily lives, as if one of the greatest kunoichis wasn’t lying in a hospital bed, a sad imitation of what she used to be.

In the days of her uncertain recovery, the shadow of trepidation lifted from his friends and Kakashi couldn’t help but be _pissed off at them all_ for, for, for what? Being Shinobi who knew how to deal with hard times and loss?

It wasn’t even loss! Just…

He just

Wanted the whole world to feel what he felt.

And he felt fucking _terrible_.

.

.

It took six days— _six days!—_ for her to finally wake up.

Kakashi hadn’t been there, of course. He was training. That was all that filled his monotonous days, training. There was no reprieve from the nightmares and the guilt so he had to stay busy, moving, distracted.

When he heard she awoke, he imagined the Uchiha was at her side—apparently he had refused any and all missions, keeping diligent watch over the young woman who likely spent more hours than he or Naruto combined in hovering over a near-death teammate. The hours Sasuke spent at her bedside were nothing compared to how many she had given him, and perhaps that was what kept Sasuke in his seat. He owed her that much.

And perhaps…

Perhaps there was something beyond the guilt of letting her down.

Perhaps he—

_He proposed._

Kakashi met Guy’s kick with a braced forearm, pivoting to the side to avoid the brunt of the blow and grabbing the Green Beast’s shoulder, aiming a knee to his back.

_Uchiha Sasuke had proposed._

Guy was quicker and without the Sharingan Kakashi had no chance of keeping track of his movements—

A solid punch to his stomach sent him reeling back and the Copy-Nin doubled over even as he flipped in the air. His body tipped back and he reached his hand out to the fast-approaching ground. Palm flat, he pressed off, flipping to his feet and skidding to a halt several meters from his opponent.

“You’re distracted, Kakashi!”

_Uchicha Sasuke had proposed and Sakura had said no._

“It’s OK, you know. To be—”

Kakashi didn’t want to hear it, he was sick and tired of his friends trying to cheer him up. Didn’t they understand? Nothing would cheer him up. Nothing could—

He dashed forward, anticipating Guy’s next move and flash-stepping out of the way, instead sweeping his leg out to break his opponent’s root. But Guy was faster— _really, he was inhumanly fast—_ and Kakashi barely had time to lean back and flip away as the man charged.

Scratch that, he had no time.

A fist connected with his chin and he saw stars—

_Why did Sakura say no?_

Kakashi flew back, not even bothering to brace his fall as he skidded on his back. He lied in a heap on the dirt, staring up at the sky, explosions of bright bubbles shifting in and out of focus.

He blinked and found Guy standing above him. “You’re distracted.”

The Copy-Nin touched his jaw already knowing it would start to swell. There was no denying he was distracted, but he didn’t need Guy scolding him about it, he was a grown man, thank-you-very-much. A fact that his fellow shinobi seemed to all conveniently forget.

“C’mon, let’s go to the hospital.”

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t patronize me,” the taijutsu expert snapped in a tone very unlike himself. He leveled the Copy-Nin with that reprimanding look he hated. “I know your face is fine, Kakashi.”

The silver-haired Jounin scrutinized his peer for another moment before finally picking himself up. Sometimes he forgot how astute the Green Beast could be.

.

.

The waiting room was stifling.

Guy spoke with the receptionist. It seemed there were too many visitors in Haruno Sakura’s room and the limit was three at a time.

Kakashi sat in a chair. He _hated_ that room. Hated the stagnant, blaring light, the white walls (he conveniently overlooked the two dents he left in his fits of helpless rage), the quiet murmur of conversation.

He watched the receptionist recount to Guy how it happened:

Uchiha Sasuke was _not_ the first person Sakura saw when she came-to.

Kakashi was surprised to read that from her lips, but mostly he was selfishly relieved. He had no right to feel any sort of way but the churning in his gut couldn’t be denied. He was glad to know the Yamanaka girl had been Sakura’s first hug, first welcome into the world she left behind for far too long.

He didn’t bother finding out more, it didn’t matter.

She would be inundated with people coming to see her, why should he take up someone’s time now? She had her parents, her friends, and her teammates—

He shouldn’t be there. Didn’t deserve to be there.

Didn’t deserve answers to questions he was too afraid to ask.

Didn’t deserve _shit_ from her with how he’d acted.

So he left.

.

.

He sensed her chakra before he noticed the blur of pink and red. He dodged her fist cleanly, but he knew it wasn’t a blow meant to land. She swung it like a flag: _I’m here_ it screamed. Didn’t she know that he was always so hyper aware of her presence? She could be meters away and he would notice every breath, every movement.

“Sakura.”

Rather than a defensive stance for a spar, she fell into an accusatory one, prepared for a completely different kind of confrontation. “You didn’t come see me. _Not once_.”

Kakashi didn’t have to ask how she knew, clearly everyone told her as much.

The fact bothered her, and he _knew_ —like he knew the sky was blue and that the Sharingan he had did not belong to him—that the young woman before him _loved him_. Loved him like Rin. But the difference was that he—

“I knew you’d be okay,” he said, ignoring his own thoughts.

“You didn’t care,” Sakura scoffed instead. Despite the fire in her eyes, the anger in her expression, he recognized the hurt. “You didn’t give a crap at all, did you? Just like when I was a Genin. You just...we just...you still think I’m that weak, lost, little girl. You’ve always thought that—so then what were we doing? Were you just...just toying with me? You figured ‘well, might as well give her what she wants, could be fun’?”

He tensed. How _dare_ she think—did she think so _low_ of him? Didn’t she know him at all? Nevermind that her opinions were one-hundred percent valid given how he reacted, given everything he’d done since their falling out and tenuous reconciliation. “Sakura—”

“You weren’t just some fleeting thought for me, Kakashi!” Her voice was both broken and strong at the same time and the Copy-Nin was baffled in how that was possible. “Everything here—I...I thought things had changed. I thought you felt it, too. But I’m the idiot here, aren’t I? You were never serious about me, just like when I was a Genin. I thought it had changed but nothing, _nothing_ has—“

In a flash he appeared directly in front of her. If she was surprised, she didn’t show it. But she was seething. There was no watery layer of tears in her eyes, there was only shimmering, brilliant, resplendent _rage_.

“Sakura,” his voice was low, a rasp, a rumble, one that got caught in his mask, but she heard it because she knew the sound of it muttered in the dark, in the heat of a deeper connection that neither could have ever predicted. “ _Everything_ has.”

A beat. Two.

And her palm—flat and obstinate—met his chest, sending him flying back.

The spar was fierce, unrelenting, but _necessary_.

In their exchange of attacks, they said the words that had been building up in their distance—

_I trusted you. I opened myself up to you. And you ran away. You left me. You turned your back on me._

_I’m sorry. I can’t say how sorry I am. I’m sorry I’m sorry but it’s for the best._

_Why did you even let me in only to shut me out again?_

_Because I couldn’t say no. I couldn’t—I couldn’t—_

_I love you._

_I can’t._

By the end, they were both spent, lying on their backs. It was nighttime, and the moon was full, obscuring the stars. The Training Grounds were demolished, but more importantly, the carefully erected wall Kakashi had begun reconstructing was rubble at their feet.

They exchanged no truths in words, but he saw in her eyes, in every savage punch of her fists, raw accusation and he _was certain_ that she saw his regret and guilt and sorrow in his eyes. He knew because the look on her face was cracked on the edges, as if she finally understood. Truly understood. Even without words, without secrets unveiled, she understood.

Because she was a kunoichi and she was a genius and she _knew him_ even though she wasn’t privy to every aspect of his dark past.

He closed his eyes, but not before he caught her shuddering taunt—

“Scaredy-cat.”

He exhaled with some effort, blood dripped from his nose, afterall.

“Sasuke proposed, huh?” Evade. Deflect. She didn’t need Kakashi, shouldn’t want him, couldn't she see that he was no good for her? Sure, the Uchiha was just as damaged but _he_ wasn’t afraid to be with her. Why couldn’t she just...accept that? Choose Sasuke?

She snorted then, a half-hearted wave of her hand accompanying her words: “He did.”

“Why did you refuse?” _Why why whywhywhy_.

Sakura scoffed, despite her state she still had the capacity for attitude. He told himself it wasn’t in the least bit endearing. “I couldn’t just...just accept him like that. After everything he’d done. And he’d been gone for so long and...what, did he expect things to just—be alright? I love him. I do, but it’s…” she trailed off and Kakashi understood exactly what she was trying to say.

He thought of Rin, thought of Naruto.

Slowly, so slowly as if he was caught in the slow motion that always surrounded her, Kakashi reached for her hand. “I know.”

Without hesitation her fingers curled around his.

.

.

“ _What were you thinking?_

“Sparring after just getting discharged!

“Are you _insane_? You’re both insane!

“I should put you both on probation!”

Tsunade’s words washed over him, a gentle wave on sunkissed shores. Hands in pockets, he stood before her desk, amused and unable to feel any form of remorse because at his side the pink-haired fire-cracker apologized profusely on both their behalfs and it was just

so

damn

nice

to hear her rise to his defense.

The Hokage’s amber gaze flicked to him, as if sensing his _amusement_. Could she see through his mask? Did she know he was grinning? He immediately stopped. But she saw it, she saw the shift in the fabric, the look in his eye. And he didn’t like the way her cheeks relaxed, the way her ferocity was tamed (albeit minutely), didn’t like how she stared at him as if reading a familiar medical scroll and seeing something she hadn’t seen in a long time.

She let out a long-suffering sigh that carried the world’s burdens. “Hatake—one week’s probation. Sakura—two. Dismissed.”

.

.

“I’m sorry,” Sakura began.

Kakashi shook his head, tilting it back to lean on the elevator wall.

She quieted and he wondered if she was waiting for him to say something. What could he say? He was...weakened. Not physically but emotionally. The whole... _thing_ between them wore him down and he was exhausted. He imagined she must be, too. But what could he say? What could she? Nothing changed, he still…

“It’s okay, you know,” the medic whispered. “I can’t...convince you to want me and I know that.”

Didn’t she know? _Didn’t she know that he wanted her more than anything else in the godforsaken world?_

“It’s okay, Kakashi. Quit beating yourself up over it.”

The elevator came to a stop, the doors opened to the hospital lobby, and just like that the pink-haired kunoichi walked away.

Kakashi told himself that there wasn’t some deeper meaning there.

.

.

He didn’t seek her out, nor did she seek him.

They were cordial, but distant, and Kakashi tamed the roiling in his gut, the tightness in his chest, whenever he saw her—because of course he did. Things returned to some kind of normal, she _seemed_ like herself. But something was off. The light in her eyes had dimmed, the flush in her face was gone.

She was Haruno Sakura but not _his Sakura_.

And he hated himself because he didn’t want anyone else to know or have or enjoy _his Sakura_ but he also couldn’t bear the fact that she might be gone forever.

.

.

Hatake Kakashi was being dramatic.

Haruno Sakura was not gone forever.

Except she was. _She was not the same and maybe it was his fault but why couldn’t she see that it was better this way, why couldn’t she just love Uchiha again and then he could move on—_

Knock, knock.

The Jounin didn’t even look over at the door, too busy sharpening his weapons. “Go away, Genma.”

“It’s not Genma.” Deep voice. Pissed off. Could only be one person.

Kakashi stopped. “I’m busy.”

“Like hell you're busy, asshole!”

Ah, so it was both of them.

Kakashi sighed and stood to answer his door. He was greeted with a solid punch to the face (Why was he always getting punched goddammit?) and even though there was not much force behind it, it _hurt_.

“That’s for Sakura-chan!” the blond exclaimed, shaking his fist.

“I didn’t do anything to Sakura,” Kakashi muttered, nursing his ego more than his cheek.

But the Uchiha was quick to cut in: “ _Bullshit_.” He stood at the threshold, arms crossed and leaning against the doorframe as Naruto entered the apartment in a flurry of indignation.

“Look, I’ll admit it was weird at first when Sakura-chan told me she liked you—“

She _told_ him?!

“—and I’ll admit that it gave me the heeby-jeebies, but dammit Kakashi-sensei I’d never seen her so—so—happy isn’t even the word, she was just so—“

“ _In love_ ,” Sasuke supplied, voice hard but understanding. He was staring right at his former sensei, drilling the notion into the Copy-Nin’s brain with his eyes alone.

“Yeah! In love!”

To say he was taken aback would be an understatement; Kakashi flinched. “She—“ he didn’t know what he was going to say. Denying it seemed futile. So he faltered, grasping for a response and finding nothing.

The Uchiha was the one to offer him something, anything, to grab hold of. “Everyone knows, idiot.”

Huh, so much for respecting your sensei.

“And everyone knows you love her, too. It’s pathetic. This self-imposed penance you’re serving and for what? What’s the purpose? Will it bring your dead teammates back?”

Kakashi’s visible eye iced over.

“Ne, teme, I don’t think—“

“No Naruto, he needs to hear this,” Sasuke snarled, always merciless and to the point. “He’s not just making himself miserable with his stupid, emotional masochism. He’s hurting Sakura. He can’t get over his own fucking guilt and regret so he has to strip her of her own happiness just so he can go to sleep at night thinking he’s doing it _for her own good_ —“

Sasuke went flying into the street but managed to land on his feet. Kakashi stood at the doorway—he hadn’t even processed that he _moved,_ let alone punched the Uchiha-brat who dared sling accusations as if he was free of sin.

Sharingan eyes glared at him, but the Copy-Nin only flexed his fist. The heat from the impact still burned along his knuckles. “You don’t know _anything_ about this kind of guilt. You _sought_ your revenge, enacted vengeance—your slate is _clean_. You can finally fucking _heal._ I don’t have that luxury.”

Sasuke scoffed. “You told me _not_ to seek revenge. Do you remember that? So what now, are you saying what I did was right? That now since my _slate is clean_ , I deserve someone like her, that I have a right to be with someone like her?”

“No one deserves her,” Kakashi growled.

“So then, rather than no man ever possibly living up to what we all think Sakura-chan deserves why not give her what _she wants_ instead? She deserves that much, ‘ttebayo.”

The Copy-Nin just glared at the blond and, after demanding that they both leave him alone, shut the door and resumed sharpening his weapons.

.

.

Sleep was fitful and filled with pleas and blood and crackling lightning.

.

.

The next night, she visited.

He was so sleep-deprived that he thought she was a figment of his imagination coming to haunt him. Kakashi stepped out of his shoes, first one then the other, and sat on the edge of his bed.

She was crouched at his sill, so familiar it ached.

And he was too tired to tell the phantom to go away. So he sighed, tugging down his mask in surrender. “Why are you here.”

Her manner was as hard and tenacious as he remembered—what were her teammates yammering on about? She seemed exactly as she should be. Fury in her eyes and life in her face.

“You’re a genius, aren’t you?” There was venom in her quip and Kakashi scowled. She stepped down from the window, feet making no noise as she stood. “I’m sorry the boys...dropped by.”

“I didn’t know Sasuke had become so talkative,” the Copy-Nin groused.

Sakura scoffed at that before venturing on. “When you told me everything changed,” she began, eyes still wary but chin defiant, “What exactly did you mean?”

He didn’t have to search very hard for the memory:

 _(“Everything here—I...I thought things had changed. I thought you felt it, too. But I’m the idiot here, aren’t I? You were never serious about me, just like when I was a Genin. I thought it had changed but nothing,_ nothing _has—“_

 _“Sakura._ Everything _has.”)_

The Copy-Nin dropped his head into his hands, fingers carding through his silver hair. “You’re a genius, aren’t you?” he parroted.

And then she was standing directly in front of him—this spectre that wouldn’t be easily dispelled. Her hands on his wrists drew him out of his stupor.

She was on her knees—damn if he always loved when she was on her knees—

“I love you, Kakashi.”

He blinked. He knew, of course he knew, and she wasn’t telling him expecting him to be surprised.

“You love me, too.”

He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t process. She smelled like cucumbers and melons and her eyes were bright and they remained there in the dark, him on his bed and her on her knees before him, pale and perfect in the moonlight. And her _hands burned_ on his wrists.

In the dark, so fucking tired of shoving down everything, he couldn’t lie to her. Because it was her, the woman in front of him, it was _his Sakura_.

She wasn’t gone forever, after all.

He inhaled, slow and steady, and she waited.

Then, “Aa.”

She smiled a sad resplendent smile and gave his wrists a squeeze before straightening up. His gaze followed her as she stood, unable to keep from watching her. “Okay,” the young woman murmured. “Okay.”

When she moved away, he fought the urge to reach out.

She left him on the edge of his bed, staring out the window.

_Okay?_

.

.

The fuck did she mean _‘Okay?’_

.

.

.

But seriously— _Okay_? Who says that and then just _leaves?_

.

.

Clearly he wouldn’t get any sleep that night, so he did the next most logical thing: went to Sakura’s apartment.

She wasn’t there and panic gripped him—but then her chakra pulsed, calling him, and he turned and took to the rooftops, knowing exactly where she was.

He found her on the bridge not too far from the hospital. she leaned on the railing, cool as can be, as if she had been waiting for him. When he approached, she didn’t shift to greet him, didn't move at all.

So he just stood there, unsure of what he was expected to do—“Sakura.”

“Kakashi.”

Hands in pockets to keep from touching her, he leaned his back against the railing beside her.

“You never liked Hiro,” Sakura declared. “It wasn’t because he was a civilian. It was because I was seeing him.”

Kakashi tipped his head sky-ward.

“You’re glad I didn’t say yes to Sasuke.”

Was that a shooting star?

“You’re scared.”

He couldn’t do this, he didn’t know what came over him, why he thought it would be a good idea to find her.

“I’m scared, too, you know.”

“Sakura—you’re too—“

“Don’t. I’m not _too anything_ for you,” the medic chided. “You can’t fault me for your fears, Kakashi. The only reason we’re not together is because you won’t let us be. That has nothing to do with me and everything to do with you. I’m not even mad. I get it. But stop— _stop_ —pinning the blame on me.”

The Copy-Nin glanced at her. She was glaring at him, arms crossed over her chest, no sign of tears or regret or weakness, only unrelenting ferocity, and he wondered how he had lasted so long avoiding her. Depriving himself of her.

He sighed—there was no winning this battle for him. He was hopeless, the woman with her pastel hair and fiery eyes had him wrapped around her deceptively delicate finger.

Kakashi could end this once and for all, lay out his cards and tell her in no uncertain terms that what they did was fun but a mistake and it was time for the world to go back to how it should be—how it should have been—all along. He with his guilt and her with the Uchiha.

But he didn’t. “You’re right,” he ceded, surprising them both. Then, before he could change his mind, before he could back pedal, he trapped her against the bridge rail, arms flanking her frame, so near his nose grazed her forehead when he looked down at her.

Her fingers found his mask, hooked on the edge.

One breath, two—

There was no telling who moved first, but as he leaned down, she tugged the mask and his mouth found hers.

Kakashi kissed her as if she was the salvation he had been seeking his whole life. He kissed her as if he could translate all of his regret into the movements of his lips, of his tongue. And she kissed him—she kissed him like he was the _fucking air she needed to breathe_.

He couldn’t deny her, couldn’t pretend anymore, not when she bared everything to him, ever the obstinate force that she was. His hands rose to her face, fingers tangling into her hair, tilting her chin up so he could have better access to her mouth. It was better than he recalled, his dreams didn't— _couldn’t_ —do justice to the warmth of her, the way her lips slanted expertly against his, the way she fit along the planes of his body, her thigh pressing oh-so-sweetly into him that she drew an impatient rumble from his throat.

She scratched down his back and even through his shirt _her touch was like fire._ The simple gesture relieved not all but most of the anguish he carried with him.

Maybe in time the pain would ebb, maybe in time...

Haruno Sakura was a beacon and, after so long wandering in the mist, in the dark, he was finally ready to follow her light home.

“I love you,” he muttered into her hair, against her temple. “ _I love you,_ ” he rasped on the bridge of her nose.

The grin was evident in her tone: “About time, Hatake.”

A semblance of the oft uttered phrase in her youth ( _“You’re late!”_ ), but something evolved, something current—proof that while some things, many things, did change, it wasn’t a complete shift into something unidentifiable. Maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t her and the Uchiha who were written in the stars after all.

“Sorry, got lost on the—“ Kakashi began but Sakura rose on her toes to capture the phrase with her lips and…and…

That night, when they finally fell asleep, her light chased away his nightmares.

.

.

The shift was _immediate._

Everyone knew and no one even bothered to hide it.

Their reignited relationship was met with mostly cheerful congratulations but also impatient sentiments. Kakashi would have gotten annoyed by the knowing looks his friends kept shooting him, or the insufferable way the Hokage asked how his _eye_ was, but he couldn’t bring himself to care an ounce. Not when his medic would roll her eyes and squeeze his hand as if she couldn’t quite believe that he was still there.

Kakashi arched a brow at her every time, and every time she’d just smile.

The celebratory dinner with the old Team 7 was filled with poignant jabs at the Copy-Nin’s expense, and unfortunately for him, Sakura joined in.

She prodded him, making snide remarks with her two teammates—but he knew she was joking and besides, he _deserved it._ (That didn’t mean it wasn’t annoying.)

But he put on a brave face and took it in stride. It helped that his arm was draped over the back of the booth in which they sat, practically across her shoulders.

She looked at him and he met her glance head on. A pretty blush filled her cheeks.

Sakura shook her head, engaging in whatever Naruto was talking about—some new skill or other.

Kakashi felt another stare and looked over at the Uchiha across the way.

Sasuke regarded him as he regarded anybody—with cool detachment. But there was a nearly imperceptible nod that said more than words from the Uchiha could ever express:

_Thank you._

Thank you for being what she needed, for giving her what she deserved, for taking care of her in a way Sasuke never could.

Kakashi offered an eye-crinkling smile—

“Wait a minute!”

All gazes jumped to the blond. And by all, Kakashi meant the _whole damn restaurant_.

Naruto stood, pointing an accusing finger at his former sensei.

“Does this mean Sakura-chan has seen your face?!”

A pause, then the medic breached the awkward— _Wow so awkward someone please say something—_ silence. “Well yeah.” As if it was _the most obvious thing in the world_. Clearly, everyone at the table was a genius except for Naruto.

“That’s not fair!” the future Hokage whined.

Sakura shrugged. “Date him, then.”

Naruto devolved into a surprisingly well-executed lecture on how that was completely unfair and Sakura had girly bits that Kakashi probably liked and how Naruto couldn’t possibly be anything their sensei ever wanted and if it came down between him and Sasuke, Kakashi would probably choose Sasuke not because the teme was cuter but because Sasuke and Kakashi were both so damned brooding and wouldn’t stop glaring at each other and that was obviously indicative of suppressed sexual tension which of course drew the Uchiha into the completely pointless argument—

And Kakashi grinned because so much had changed and at the same time it seemed nothing had changed at all.

.

.

**Fini~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can i just say that you guys have been wonderfully supportive and i appreciate each and every one of you who has taken the time to read this little drabble-series of mine. can’t believe this is all done! it’s bittersweet but i am super happy to have my very first completed work here on Ao3! i truly hope it was as enjoyable to read as it was to write (:
> 
> i’ve got a sasusaku mulan-inspired: Synergy.
> 
> but if you prefer drabble-style i’ve got a sasuke-centric post canon fic as well: Nocturne Interludes. (:
> 
> until next time you wonderful wonderful readers!
> 
> much love <3


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